


The Paint Escape

by Silversatori



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, aperture tag, portal mod
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-30 22:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silversatori/pseuds/Silversatori
Summary: Blue gel, orange gel, another test chamber solved. One step closer to their complimentary Citranium and freedom, right? Nigel is just a regular core trying to do his regular, uneventful job, when his test subject suddenly decides to make a run for it. They have a plan to get out of there, and he's going to help them. If he wants to or not.





	1. Inside Aperture

Blue gel splattered over black tiles. Air rushed in their ears and the long fall boots thudded down heavily on the other side of the gap.  
"Terrific jump there," the little core cheered. The test subject stared up at the metal sphere observing them with its orange optic. If it could have, the core would probably have been grinning from one ear to the other. Which it didn't have now either, of course.  
"You're the best of the best. Actually, the best since quite a while. Now, on to the next chamber!" The test subject sighed and turned towards the door. It slid open with a beep and a change of color from blue to orange.  
"Holy science, you're fast," the core muttered, apparently to itself. It did that a lot, as if it wasn't aware others could hear it. "Hm-hm, yeah, let's take this one next." It had a male voice, so the test subject assumed it was supposed to be a man. But so young... the voice belonged to a teenager, sixteen or seventeen at the most, and not one that had been lucky in his puberty voice change.  
The test subject left the chamber and entered a bleak hallway. Everything in here seemed unfinished, the skeleton of the facility barely covered by dirty white plastic plates. How deep underground was this? They couldn't remember exactly how they got here.  
Behind the next door was the usual closed-off room, with a tiny podium and a tube hanging overhead. The test subject barely had time to step under the muzzle before being pulled upwards, changing directions with the tube. It was fascinating, really, and quite comfortable to travel like this. They didn't get stuck, and had a questionably magnificent view of underground Aperture. The ride ended far too soon and they landed back in another room just like the last. Everything in here looked the same, once you had seen one or three tests.  
"Alright then, let's increase the complexity a bit,” the core announced. His words were followed by the sound of rustling papers. “Uhhhh.... fizzler, fizzler, where did I put that... Ah! Those grids, called fizzlers, will activate and deactivate certain functions of your Paint Gun.... Hm, I'm pretty sure I said that already. The flow direction... Why is that marked in here?"  
The test subject exited the room with the tube and stepped through the green haze of light that marked the entrance to the new test. The little core was hanging right there, next to the entrance.  
He broke off when he noticed the test subject looking at him, blinking the plates of his optic much like a human would. "What?"  
The test subject raised an eyebrow at the metal sphere. It had been adorable in the beginning, him forgetting half of what he said and then being confused over it. There had to be a glitch in his hard drive somewhere.  
"Oh, right, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Nigel, and you probably guessed it... I'm your testing associate for now." The was barely a pause before he continued in a mumble: "Actually, I'm in charge of this testing track. Always have been."  
The test subject decided it wouldn't bring them anywhere to tell his "testing associate" that he already introduced himself or explained the fizzler. Maybe it went against his precious testing protocol.  
"Let's put some ambient music... ahh!" The speakers shrieked, and shrill guitar riffs made the floor vibrate.  
"No, no, that's... not right. Uhhhhh, how do I get rid of it..."  
The test subject splashed blue gel on the ground in front of their feet and sailed over the gap without waiting. It was about time they could use the speed gel. It was much more fun with this.  
The “testing associate” took an unreasonably long time searching through his "papers". Long enough, in fact, that the test subject had reached the exit. The song trailed off and the core let out a nervous laugh.  
"Uh... That... was great. You were great, really. Unfortunately, uh, this wasn't part of the test, the music, I screwed that up, so... sorry."  
The test subject suppressed a laugh and shook their head at the core. They shared their taste in music. That was something, at least. The test subject knew it was time to continue, but they didn't. The core looked nervous. In fact, it was hard to miss how the orange optic flickered over to the beginning of the test from time to time.  
The core cleared his non-existent throat before speaking and his voice dropped to a whisper. It was useless, since he was still hooked up with the speakers. He didn't seem to notice. "Okay, you gotta do me a favor, just... go ahead already. Doors are open, fizzlers activated, you can solve the next test without my help. I gotta do something. Just... don't tell anyone. You get some of my Citranium, okay? Or the physical version of the simulated.... doesn't matter. Just continue testing. I'll be back in a minute."  
The core didn't even wait for a response before zipping off on his management rail. The core vanished behind a wall, but the test subject could still see him through gaps in the panels. He moved up to an office the test subject had purposefully ignored. It was lit up in a fashion quite similar to fire, and now that it was quiet, it was almost possible to pick up faint traces of music.  
The test subject turned around and hurried to the next chamber.  
There had to be cameras everywhere, even if the teenager core wasn't checking them right now. The test subject considered the angle and then sprayed some repulsion gel on the wall. What if some of the cameras got covered up by accident? How were they supposed to know?  
They only had a few minutes, at the most. This thing had been upgraded a bunch of times it seemed, but the basic mechanics were still the same. It was just one little chip.  
Had the core been an actual employee, this would have cost him his job. As it was, there was nobody but the test subject to hear what he said, since he had clearly forgotten to turn off the speakers in the other room. The words were clipped, and echoed through the corridor, but most of the meaning carried through.  
“...know. You're... Metal Core... Still, you can't... No!”  
The test subject replaced the casing, and slipped the chip into the jumpsuit's pocket. Judging from the tiny battery attached to the chip, it was self-reliant, so it should still send a signal if it was supposed to do so.  
The test subject splashed orange gel on the floor. So far, so good. Then they stepped through the fizzler, earning a tiny sting of electricity from their pocket. They pulled the trigger again. Sure enough, the gel was flowing.  
Now, time to do the test as their “associate” asked for. Jump over a gap, get the cube, press a button. This was getting lame over time. The test subject landed safely in font of the open door, but didn't go through yet. The core's voice was almost inaudible from this distance.  
“...alright. Yeah. ...test... got... get back.”  
The test subject waited. Just when he assumed the core would enter the room, he turned to the door and unhurriedly walked through.  
“Ah, nicely done,” the testing associate complimented. “Well, actually, I didn't see any of it, but you were as fast as ever, so still, very good. Sorry for the interruption. Internal stuff.”  
When the next door opened, the test subject was greeted by gush of cool air, the smell of mist, and stars sparkling in the distance.  
Somewhere inside their chest, a little hope flickered up, but of course, that was ridiculous. Aperture didn't work like that. Outside meant outside influences, espionage, and test subjects or employees getting away.  
“Alright, I'm sure you got a ton of questions. But first, let me say this: You were an amazing test subject. Because...” He trailed off for a bit as to heighten the suspense. “This is the last test! And thanks science, you're not like the last one... why would humans have to do their business so often, seriously?” He paused and blinked. “Maybe... nah, you probably figured there are more test subjects than you. Good job, uh... test subject name here... Damn it, I knew I forgot something. I guess that means no personalized Citranium cans. Sorry. But I promise, that doesn't make it any less tasty.”  
The test subject didn't even bother to answer that. The kid was a decent actor, alright. Or was programmed to be one, at least, but he couldn't pull off a manipulation that obvious.  
Not that it mattered, as long as it worked. People weren't that complicated after all. Codes were not humans. They were easy to dispose of.  
They also could get a little unreasonable when their name was being forgotten.  
The test subject sprayed orange gel on the floor, adding a little touch of blue at the edge, and then sailed over to the other side. The platforms looked more like huge metal crates piled up and fastened with steel cables. Aperture had been too cheap to manufacture the tiles for this. Too expensive to clean, probably. The test subject enjoyed flying, the feeling of air in their face, lifting their hair up and cooling the sweat, but also the view it gave them over a testing track. Especially the view.  
“Uh, where are you going?”, the core demanded. His simulated voice wavered between worry and annoyance. “That's off bounds, we can get in trouble for that. W-What was that noise?”  
The plates covering the walls tumbled down into the mist, parting it for barely a second, revealing a thin floor that couldn't withstand the impact for a moment. They crashed through, making the whole test structure shake.  
The core let out a startled yelp and tried to get a better look, as far as his management rail went. “Ah, no, what are you doing? This will get us in trouble, I mean, you're not gonna care, but I don't wanna be thrown into the incinerator too!” He broke off. “I... I shouldn't have said that. Scratch that, I made a mistake, that was another test subject. They misbehaved really badly, you know? Just... just come back here, okay? Okay? Hey, where are you?”  
The test subject paused, their feet already in the hole the plate had covered before. The outer structure would take them right to the exit of the sphere, if they remembered the plans correctly.  
They weren't sure what made them hesitate.  
It was only a personality sphere, right? If it was thrown into the incinerator, what did it matter? It wasn't human. A construct, something artificial.  
But it was also a teenager. What really counted as being alive? Being born? Being organic? Having feelings?  
The test subject got back to their feet and rounded the metal container again that had covered their escape route. The core was zipping back and forth on his management rail, muttering to himself in an obvious panic. He stopped dead when he saw the test subject.  
“Oh, thank science, I thought you got lost. You know, the facilities are over there.” He flicked his optic to the right. “The boss is very strict about failures, you know? I wouldn't want to end up like that fancy-looking core with the flower pattern.” His casing shuddered for emphasize.  
The test subject stepped up to the edge and stared down into the mist. There were dark patches in the clouds. They couldn't be sure, but that was where the holes had to be. The test subject waved a hand downwards and put on a quizzical expression.  
He core spun his optic to the side, vaguely resembling a puppy cocking its head. “Down there? Well, more tests. You already went through them, actually. Some of the beginner's tests. Why?”  
The test subject smiled and stepped back from the ledge. The blue gel was already hardening on the floor and every step meant working against the power meant to catapult them upwards.  
“So, will you finish the test now? We have to be quick, or your record time will suffer. That would be bad, you know? The boss is getting a bit impatient, ever since _her_....”  
The test subject stashed the paint gun into their belt, as far as that was even possible. They were lucky the jumpsuit was that large, even though it was still uncomfortable. They could feel paint running down their leg.  
“Uh, what are you doing? I'm pretty sure you still need that, you know?” The test subject ran and leaped. The momentum carried them ten feet in the air and the impact punched every bit of breath out of their lungs. The core, not having any respiratory system to stun, let out a yell of surprise and pain as the test subjects arms locked around the sphere.  
“W-What are you doing?! Argh, let go, I can't hold us both... wait, no, that means failing the test, no, I- I'll get us somewhere safe.” The core's voice was strained with pain. The rails creaked pitifully as they began to wheel over to the nearest platform.  
“It's for science...”, he growled, as if to motivate himself. Cores couldn't cry, obviously, but their voices could be very expressive.  
The test subject wrapped one hand around the claw locked into the core's body. He let out a whimper. “P-Please don't do that, i-it h-hurts-”  
“Let go or die,” the test subject said. Their fingers dug into the mechanism holding them in place, but they didn't budge. Yet.  
They sped up a little more, but the nearest platform was still yards away. The test subject's arms were burning from the effort and they could feel their grasp slip on the smooth steel. There, a switch. The core let out a sound between a whimper and a sob, but sped up even more.  
“N-No. I can't. We have to finish the test.”  
They were finally right over the holes the falling plates had punched into the floor.  
The test subject narrowed their eyes, the orange optic almost blinding them. “Let. Go. Or. Die.”  
With an agonized shriek that was half a simulated voice, half the mechanics giving way, the locks opened, and they fell.


	2. The Fall

The test subject's shoulders brushed past the metal frame where panels should have been. They could feel the wind rushing in their ears, their eyes scanning over the environment as they got closer to the bottom. They only had a few seconds to take in what was awaiting them: a safe floor to land, or a pool of toxic waste?  
What awaited them was a much longer fall than expected.  
The floor had not been made to withstand that much of an impact, and the plates hadn't been exactly light. The test subject barely had time to register the test chamber, splattered with paint from their previous visit, before they rushed through another hole and found themselves back in the most run-down part of the facility. Metal framework rushed past them, sometimes interlaced with the dirty white and yellowish plates that were not plastic, nor metal, nor anything else the test subject had a name for.  
The test subject tightened their grip on the core cradled in their arms. It was frantically wiggling its handles, trying to get out of the test subject's grasp.  
“Oh science, oh science, how do I fix this, even that outdated core had Wi-Fi, why not me, the boss is gonna be angry at me, we're gonna lose so much time, ahhhh!”  
The test subject had anticipated the impact, unlike the effect on their equipment. The paint gun was already slippery and very uncomfortable in its current place. It was drop the core or let the gel gun slide into the pants and possibly break it. The test subject decided the core surely would prefer damage to himself over his precious gel gun, and unceremoniously dropped the metal sphere to the floor. He should know what he was at from the beginning.  
“Ow! Ow...” The sphere rolled around for a little while before coming to a halt against a cable connecting two platforms.  
The test subject wiped off the gel gun on the side of their jumpsuit. They had seen this test before. It was just after the ventilation dispatch system had carried them through a cavern with what looked very much like a shore, and an opening to the outside. They were under Aperture, in the salt mines once more, and... Now what?  
They had the paint gun and a core, but only two hands. And an apron, for that matter.  
The test subject took off the ridiculous garment and tied the paint-splattered white fabric to a makeshift belt. At least now it would become remotely useful. The loop was just big enough to hold the paint gun. It wasn't comfortable, or pretty, but it worked for now. Better than stuffing it into their jumpsuit again.  
“Uh.... yeah... I might not have thought this one through,” the core announced. The optic was moving over the floor, trying to pick up on anything, handles wagging uselessly, casually shifting him closer to the edge. “I begin to understand why they wanted to make androids...” He let out a startled yelp when the test subject picked him up, before he could fall into the dirty brown water below them. The test subject held him up, hands on both sides of the shifting optic to get a better look.  
“W-We gotta get upstairs again and finish the test. D-Don't worry about my boss, I'm gonna talk to Her, She'll understand.” The already quite high-pitched voice jumped two octaves higher. It might just have been a glitch. Might.  
The core shut the face plates in front of his optic. Since he wasn't breathing it was hard to tell, but his voice wavered in the effort of suppressing a panic. “It's not that terrible yet. Accidents happen. It's not my fault at all. I'm just a simple testing associate.” The test subject could feel the mechanics shudder under their fingers. “Okay, Nigel, this is your first crisis, remember the protocol, this will be resolved in just a bit, no need to panic,” the core muttered to itself. It wasn't small, by any objective measurement, but it felt like that, for some reason. A helpless ball of metal, with a personality stuck inside that felt pain and fear and joy.  
The core opened his eye again, staring up at the test subject. They stared back, not breaking the gaze.  
“You're not gonna go back, are you?”, he guessed, sounding genuinely disappointed. The test subject shook their head.  
“B-But...” The core shook his optic as a human would shake their head and fell quiet, avoiding the test subject's gaze. “Kill me quick, okay? The boss won't for sure. She's not that nice.”  
The test subject didn't comment and just grabbed the upper handle to carry the core more comfortably. He let out a sharp hiss.  
Frowning, the test subject lifted to core up to eye level again. Their fingers caught between the handle and something else, and they almost dropped him in reflex of shying away from the pain. Instead, they adjusted their grip and inspected the metal sphere. There was nothing steam-powered about it, or in the general area around them, for that matter. It must have come from the voice modulators.  
The test subject rested the core in the crook of their elbow, making sure not to lose their grip, before they walked on. He had apparently realized that struggling didn't bring him anywhere except for the floor, and didn't move. Even the optic had become still. He was probably running his protocols right now, trying to figure out the best way to deal with this.  
This particular test was short, and the remains of their previous run were still there, so they didn't have to use the paint gun at all. They stepped through the fizzler and into the next corridor. There had to be a way to leave this place, now that their original plan went to ruin. How had they gotten in, for that matter? They had woken up in a room that might have been a motel, but wasn't. It was all just for a “gentle” awakening. Why they had woken up in the bathroom was another matter, but none that needed addressing right now.  
The test subject stopped and frowned upwards, where there had to be a ceiling of some sort in the haze. There had to be cameras everywhere, yet they could spot none.  
Back in Old Aperture, back in the mud, in other words. They had liked the cleaner, white and black design of the upper levels much better. Not that it mattered. Both were equally deadly.  
But... If they remembered correctly, this was the test chamber after the monitors displaying the now abandoned office had been introduced.  
An office. Access to the cameras, blueprints and eventually a way out of here. And they happened to possess the one thing that could lead them there.  
The test subject tapped the core's shell. The optic twitched, spun wildly for a few seconds, and then focused. “W-What?” The test subject flicked their head in the direction of the entrance.  
The core stared at it, then at the test subject, and gave them what might have been a suspicious stare.  
He didn't speak for almost a minute until the test subject gave up.  
“Your office.”  
The core gave a sound that might have been a snort. “You don't think I'm gonna lead you there, right? No way. Besides. It might look like it's for humans, but it's only for cores. I mean, sure it's New Aperture and there are elevators around, but... Uh. Wait. I... I slipped again, didn't I?”  
The test subject smiled and shrugged their shoulders. They patted the core's shell like one would pet a dog and scanned the test before continuing their way. Technically, they could just try to get into New Aperture again. Upwards meant closer to the surface. But it didn't feel right. It felt dangerous. Far too obvious, in front of dozens of cameras.  
There had to be some path to get to the structures outside the test they had seen before, but they would need a secluded spot to slip away. The last thing they needed was that “boss” Aperture's “employees” were so scared of picking up on what was happening.  
The core in their arms chose the clever option and barely moved, unless it was to give the test subject a better grip while they sailed through the air. He gave a tiny sound of protest from time to time, but didn't speak otherwise.  
They reached the next vacuum tube and the test subject stopped, staring up at the dirty plastic walls. Some panels had broken and revealed what could only be the outside of the sphere. Maybe... They could climb, alright. But how to take the core along? There was nothing to attach him to, not even a rope. The test subject grabbed the upper handle and tied it to the apron. This was far from perfect, not even a good idea. The sphere wasn't exactly tiny, and pulled the whole makeshift belt in whichever angle their body was to the pull of gravity. But where else to put it?  
“C-Could you, maybe... take the other handle?”, the core suggested. The test subject hesitated, blinking down at him in confusion. The handles couldn't move all the way back, they locked at some point. That was normal, as far as they could tell.  
How far did those simulated feelings go, for that matter?  
“Does it hurt?”  
His optic contracted into a tiny orange dot in a sea of black, a cartoonish expression of fear. “Um, uh, n-no, I just thought, uh, maybe... never mind. I can handle that. Um, protocol, search file:pain.simulation.exe.. override. What do you mean I can't override that?”  
The test subject untied him and lifted the core up on eye level. The remains of the management claw that had held the core on his rail jammed the handle, pressing the splinters deeper into the mechanics. The core let out a hiss again, the mobile parts of his shell quivering. He couldn't hold the silence for very long.  
“I- I can show you how to get to the office. There's a better way than climbing over the tubes, j-just please d-don't hold me like that, maybe?” The test subject scrutinized the core a second longer before putting their arm around the bottom of the sphere again, taking pressure off the handle.  
The core let out a groan of relief. “Thank you. Um... Alright, let's get to the offices then. T-there should be a door here somewhere... We need to get to the next testing tracks. It... will be easier if we're going through the old facility. Now that I'm out of the system I can't change the connections of the tube, but the boss wouldn't have any reason to change anything, so...”  
The test subject stepped under the muzzle of the vacuum delivery system and they were swept away. The core gave a choked sound of shock and pressed a little closer to the test subject's chest. The current carried them through a flooded cavern with broken down, decrepit spheres larger than a house, past even bigger and seemingly still functional testing spheres, always upwards, until they passed a giant sign saying “Aperture Science Innovators”. The atom in the middle of the logo seemed only one angry glance away from falling, but then again, what wasn't in this place? This had been built starting in the fifties, and the company had been bankrupt for years. Who knew what time had passed since then?  
After a while of silent travel, the core stirred in their arms, his optic glowing a bright orange while it flickered over the rapidly moving environment. “This... this is nice. When a core's in here alone we always spin around and it's hard to stabilize if you're not made for that. We got some employees who are, actually. But you humans, that's different.” The ventilator dispatch system made a sharp turn upwards, joining a bundle of yellow tubes as thick as trees, and with unknown use. The tube entered another dark corridor and the world went black except for the orange glow in the test subject's arms. “You know, sometimes I wish I had legs so I could do what you do. The others laugh at me for it, but I think it would be cool.”  
The core gave a disappointed sound when the tube ride ended and the test subject landed on their feet again. “Oh, man I wish that had been longer. There's another one a few tests ahead, though. Those tubes go through the whole facility, we can get practically everywhere.”  
The test subject shook him a little to remind him of their task at hand. He sighed, but motioned them forwards with a flick of his optic.  
“We're in upper Aperture now, even though these test chambers haven't been used in ages.”  
They walked through the chambers, doors already opened, until they reached the overgrown hole that led back to the next vacuum tube.  
“There are management rails around that lead directly to the offices.” The core caught the test subject's glare. “Well, it's not like I could do anything right now. If that concerns you at all, corruption level is at 25%, and damn it, this stings... Argh!”  
The test subject held the core upright with one hand while they inspected the fragments still buried into the the top of the sphere. The locks had jammed when they broke. It would be impossible to get this out without any tools.  
“W-What are you doing?”, the core demanded. The optic spun wildly and then went completely black for a few seconds. The test subject stopped, startled. They didn't dare move anything else until his light went on again.  
“The elevator is broken, as you know, but try moving some of the wall panels.” The core was back to his testing associate voice, neither calm nor collected, but more or less on task.  
The test subject decided to keep away from the damaged parts for now and carried him over to the elevator room. He might be trying to help right now, but better not to let him out of sight.  
The test subject set down their involuntary companion and scanned the room. The elevator shaft was closed off with yellow and black tape. Occasionally, a storage cube tumbled down, letting the glass shake. Climbing down there was out of the question.  
Wall panels, then, just like instructed. Many had already fallen, or just been taken down. From some, only the metal framework remained, stacked against the walls as if they'd be used again some day. The test subject looked through the holes to determine which ones they could loosen, and if that even made sense.  
“When they catch us, you gotta say you forced me to cooperate. I mean, that's not even a lie, you did, you damaged the management rail, and tortured me into telling you where to go. I didn't have a choice, right?”  
The test subject frowned, but didn't turn to look. They would get out of here, it was the only thing that mattered. This panel was loose. They leaned their weight against one side, trying to get their fingers in the gap on the other end.  
“And besides, why would you want to leave? There's nothing out there. Sure, the whole killing you thing might have been a bit over the top, but I'm sure we can find you a nice spot where you can test, lots of Citranium and... what else do humans like to do? Oh, your business, that too. This place was run by humans once, there should be enough around.”  
Humans used to run this place?  
The material groaned and gave way. The test subject stumbled back, the edge cutting the air inches from their face. The impact was surprisingly quiet, a thin, hollow sound that wore off almost immediately. The test subject stared down at the panel's back. It was just a slim metal rectangle with two crossing wires no thicker than a pencil and covered with a kind of stiff foil. The white paint on the tiles had darkened over the years, fading away to an ugly yellowish brown.  
“This was the portal gun testing track _she_ used. The tiles you can set portals on are actually moon rocks, and management thought it was prettier to get white tiles in here too. But, since moon rocks are expensive, they settled for the cheap alternative. That should be... ummm, wait, I'll scan that... Oh, right, I'm offline. Well, it should be Aperture's special fiberglass mixture. I think.”  
The test subject picked up the panel and leaned it against the wall. It was a good four foot long and two foot wide, but much lighter than the core. The cross-beams had bent a bit in the fall but everything else was still fast in place. Aperture did make some really great inventions, after all. Not that it had helped them in any way, apparently.  
The test subject shot the core a quizzical glance, gesturing at the panels.  
“Huh? What? You mean why I know that?” They nodded. “Well, I... I love my job. Science is everything to me, so I best know everything about this facility.”  
There was a thoughtful pause in which his optic flickered to the ceiling. “And I used to hang out with the Economy Core a lot. Sometimes I think she knows more about this place than my boss does. Truth is, I think the boss just doesn't care. Why think about the past when we have the future to shape, right?”  
The test subject nodded. It wasn't exactly a big surprise there was more than one core. But how in all hell had Aperture managed this? A fully fledged personality, maybe even more human than was practical, in this little sphere of metal and wiring. Astounding.  
“The tests were supposed to teach you to be quick. Thinking about anything useful? Not sure if you noticed, but the longer we're here, the sooner She will find out you're trying to get away. Your profile says you're brooding a lot, but you already showed that you can talk... which is surprising, the chemicals usually destroy the vocal chords... uh... never mind. You can talk, that's the important bit.”  
The test subject stared at the opening they had created and then went to pick up the core. Stasis chambers. That was the name. Aperture had been working on it for almost twenty years, and were about to finish the development, when... When the test subject's memory just broke off. What had happened?  
Nausea gripped them, their head suddenly covered in cotton. “Hey... you... what... okay?” The words barely reached them. What had happened? They couldn't remember. Why had they been at Aperture in the first place? They wanted to find out about something. But what, and why?  
For a moment, a picture popped into their head, a distant photograph, a person. It was gone before they could translate it into thought.  
“Hey, don't you wimp out now!”  
A jolt of electricity shot through their every muscle in a painful surge. The test subject jerked upright, their shoulder hitting the thin, but stable wall. They stayed on their feet, muscles aching, breathing hard, hands trembling from the shock.  
When it seemed like turning their head wouldn't make them vomit, they lowered their gaze to the core cradled in their arms. He returned it, the optic quivering just a tiny bit.  
“What-”, the test subject breathed. That alone was enough to send them into a coughing fit. Their ribs felt like they would explode outward with every labored breath. It didn't sound healthy either, a deep, pained bellow that echoed in the bleak room.  
Something came up in their throat and they spat it down on the floor. They didn't want to look. It might as well be blood, and that was never a good sign.  
“Ew,” the core commented. “Guess the chemicals didn't drain completely after all.”  
The test subject took a slow, concentrated breath. Their mouth was filled with a disgusting bitter taste, mixed in with an artificial flavor of lemons. The blend didn't make it any better. The test subject didn't know when they had eaten the last time, but they were glad they couldn't throw up.  
They opened their eyes. It wasn't blood. But it didn't look good either. They turned away, back to their escape route. They had wasted too much time already.  
“What did you do?”  
The core blinked his face plates and let out a nervous laugh. “Um... well, I... I gave you an electric shock. You looked like you'd pass out. That's what we testing associates are supposed to do when the test subjects, uh, l-lose their motivation...?” The test subject stared at him. “I mean, it would be bad if you'd... die, and just lay here, I can't go anywhere, there aren't even any cameras around after the lady destroyed them...” He broke off when the test subject raised a hand. He learned quickly. The test subject patted the shell again, purposefully overlooking the burn mark the shock had left on their arm.  
“Are... are we good?”, he inquired carefully. “Just don't pass out again, my battery doesn't have that kind of capacity. We're usually hooked up to the main system, so it never really mattered... let's see... battery status... 23%.” He gave the subject a blank stare. That shouldn't even be possible for a core, but he conveyed the expression nonetheless. “Oh.”  
In other words, get him to a charging station – or let him... die? The English language used that word for a battery running dry, but was it like death for the robots? Or more like sleep?  
The panel had opened a wide hole that led directly to another vacuum tube, shut in by what had to be oil tanks and machinery. A walkway was hanging far overhead, clouded by the fine mist that seemed to be common outside of the test chambers.  
“I'm not sure if that will work, you'd need enough momentum to even get up – argh!” The optic flickered and brightened again. “Uh, I can't help you with this, sorry. What... battery status 20%, oh that's just great. Hurry up a bit, maybe?”  
The test subject splashed blue gel where they hoped it would help them, and then stashed the gun into its holster again. This was almost impossible with a core in one arm, but he'd just be in the way where ever they put him.  
They squeezed though the hole and dropped down on the tube. The glass creaked pitifully, but the gel catapulted them upwards, high enough to land on the tanks. Now what? Would the tube withstand an impact? Looked like they didn't have any other choice.  
“You know, if a human could do that, which they probably can't, theoretically, there's a wall... and a catwalk... it's not important for the test of course...”  
The test subject scanned the area. The catwalk ran parallel to the concrete walls on either side of the room. It was quite a stretch to jump that far. Without the gel, that was. They smiled down at the core, who was nervously shifting his optic back and forth, as if he was expecting a punishment.  
They placed the core on the ground and held him in place with their legs, so he didn't fall off. The bright blue was a welcome contrast to the bleak and dirty colors in here.  
They were just about to thank the core for his advice despite the risk it proved to him, when they felt him turn to the far wall and call out: “Hey! Hey! I'm here! Fran! I got kidnapped! Tell the boss there's a test subject on the loose!”


	3. An offer you can't refuse

The test subject spun, almost kicking the core off the tank, just in time to catch a flicker of movement from above. A core with a muddy brown optic stared down at them before hastily retreating through a hatch near the ceiling.  
_You dirty little traitor!_ The test subject's hands tightened around the gel gun so hard their knuckles went white. They held it until their arms shook from the tension. They wanted to smash that glowing optic and break all his parts for this treason, but that didn't help them. The core was too chatty for his own good and could reveal useful information, even if he couldn't be trusted.  
How could they have made the mistake of assuming he would help them? He was an Aperture construct, and he would be loyal to Aperture to his own demise.  
In the mood the test subject was in that demise wasn't very far away.  
They splashed repulsion gel on the tank in front of the wall and secured the gel gun again. Then they picked the core up by the upper handle. He gave a noise of pained protest.  
“We talked about this! The other-” The test subject shook him until he shut up. The handle pressed against the remains of the fastening with every movement, and always threatened to dig into the test subject's hand. They adjusted their grip, and took a run-up before jumping. Their shoulder hit the wall and they bumped off, landing safely on the catwalk.  
“You made it. Great. There should be an elevator around here that brings us closer to the surface, or maybe a vacuum tube. You'd be in the portal gun test chambers, but that should be a piece of cake for- Ahhhhh, no, no, don't do that, ow!”  
The test subject kept the pressure on the handle for a few more seconds before letting off. They lifted the core to eye level. He was trembling, as far as a core could tremble.  
“O-Okay, I get it, you're mad, but what am I supposed to do? You're disturbing important experiments, and the boss won't tolerate this. The last time a test subject ran around here unsupervised they almost killed Her and blew up the facility twice. We had to let her go in the end.”  
Another test subject had made it out? Now that was the best news they had heard so far.  
They shook their head, dropping their arm to their side again and stomped over the walkway to the next door. There was a digital lock attached to it, but the frame was bent and the door couldn't close anymore.  
The dirty brown walls and dead, grimy machines changed to white corridors with equally dead but less grimy machines and the smell of stale coffee. In the chambers, it had always been noisy, wind howling in the caverns, the current of air in the vacuum tubes, the echo of the salt mines. In here, it was silent, except for the click-click-click of their boots on the tiled floor. Every door led to an office, some still labeled with the names of long-gone scientists.  
“What happened to the humans?”  
“How am I supposed to know?”, the core snapped. “They're dead, if they were all as useless as the test subjects I got before. You just go around breaking stuff and doing your business. Disgusting.”  
The test subject looked down at him, unsure how to react. The core was clearly tying to piss them off, but he sounded too much like a rebellious teenager to take him seriously.  
“The boss claims we need humans to test, and that's fine. I'm not gonna argue with Her. ...That would be pretty stupid. But, now that Fran knows, she'll tell my boss and I just go back to my job. Because I'm good at that and She knows it.”  
The test subject continued down the hallway, systematically checking every room. Some offices looked out over long since overgrown test chambers. The plants hadn't made it up all the way to this floor. Everything was white and sterile. None of the movable panels either. And no cameras, at least as far as they could see. Just a hallway and dozens of doors.  
_Dr. R. Rayner_  
Dr. B. Cattell  
Assist. Dr. H. Molaysen  
“Who is She?”, the test subject asked.  
The core's gaze wandered over the hallway, not one second returning to the test subject. “I'm not even gonna answer you anymore. You didn't want to talk to me earlier, now I don't wanna talk.”  
“You're afraid of her.”  
“She keeps science alive and everything running. Because science is the future and She's the boss. More importantly, you should be afraid. You're not even gonna get your victory Citranium before she throws you into the incinerator. You, not me.”  
“Where is she?”  
The core let out the simulation of a disparaging snort. “Oh, yes, go look for her, have fun. I'm gonna go into energy saving mode now. Only way to get much further with that battery status.” The core closed his face plates and went still without delay.  
Many names had faded out over time, but the corridor seemed to stretch on and on, an endless list of names on a condolence letter. What had happened to them? Aperture had had its legal problems from time to time, but this wasn't like they had shut the company down. Things were still in their designated room, just scattered around like there had been an earthquake. After seeing the giant springs New Aperture rested on, the bent and leaning support elements and the flooded sublevels, that was no big surprise.  
They almost walked past the next office, not eager to see more evidence of human absence, but something bright caught their eye in the sea of grays and whites. A computer monitor. Specifically, a functioning computer monitor, with a screensaver glowing in a dirty yellow.  
They went inside. This room hadn't been an office. There was a hatch marked as “incinerator”, open cupboards filled with mechanical parts and even some tools lying around. How convenient.  
The test subject placed the core on the desk, shoving aside the scattered tools, and checked the monitor. It flickered from time to time, but otherwise didn't do anything.  
_Press any key to continue_  
The test subject stared down at the keyboard. This computer looked quite different from what they were used to, but it was still a computer. They hesitantly pressed the space bar and the screen changed.  
_Please log in or select another user._  
Username: Virgil  
Password:  
The test subject stared at the name for quite a while. Just another name on a list, right? This didn't help them. They went through the usual default passwords, but none yielded a result. Even if it was something maddeningly simple, without knowing this person it was just a waste of their precious time. There had to be a power socket around at least, if the computer wasn't of any use.  
That meant they needed a cable. A brief search turned up a whole bundle that didn't look much different from each other. Frowning, the test subject turned the core in their hands, searching for a port. There was one on the back, for all they could guess. They picked up one of the cables that seemed to fit and tried. Close, but not perfect. It took three more attempts until found the right one. They half expected the core to snap at them, or say anything at all. He didn't.  
A power socket was nowhere to be found though. And now?  
It was more of a lucky guess, but there were dark spots in the white of the computer shell. They had long since gotten over their confusion of how tiny these things were, yet apparently they worked better than the computers the test subject had known. They frowned down at the free end of the cable, then plugged it in. It didn't fit. It was a rectangular shape, both port and plug. Strange. They turned it on the other side. Still nothing.  
Frustrated, they turned it around again and pushed it into the port. It fit in with a tiny click. The test subject glared at the smooth white surface, feeling utterly ridiculous. It was one thing getting mocked by sentient technology, but not-sentient machines... They suppressed the urge to slap the smooth white surface and got up.  
Three little dots appeared in the middle of the screen, lighting up in a slow sequence, one after another and then going dark again. Then the whole screen flashed in blinding yellow, before going back to brown, this time with only two lines of text.  
_User: Nigel_  
password:  
The test subject stared at the screen What password would he use? If this was indeed his own hard drive, it had to be something close to him. People used the most idiotic passwords and were proud of it, so why not robots?  
The test subject tried typing _testing_. Negative. _Gel Gun_. With and without space, all small or with caps. Negative. _Citranium. Aperture._ Still nothing.  
Should they wake the core and ask? Even if they managed to, he would probably not be too eager to give away his password and they couldn't risk damaging him more.  
A few more tries and then they would look for an alternative. They typed in _Science!_.  
The screen changed.  
_Welcome, user._  
The test subject blinked at the screen and let out a hoarse laugh that made their throat burn, but still felt like the best thing in the world. They shot a glance to the core still lying on the desk. He hadn't moved, or opened his face plates. Very well, if he wanted to be stubborn, he wouldn't get a say in this.  
The screen ran through lines and lines of text before stopping, displaying a variety of words marked with a little dot. The test subject read every one of them, fearing they would miss something important. There were easy to interpret points like “energy protocol”, “cooling system” and, quite amusingly, “music”, but the more they read the more confused they got. What was “USB driver”? And why would a core have blue teeth?  
How much time had they really missed?  
The test subject forced themselves to relax their hands around the edge of the table. There was no use in getting upset. Only logical thinking would get them out of here.  
One line said “Emotion Simulations”. The test subject carefully moved the glowing rectangular field over to the line with the help of the arrow keys. Maybe this wasn't as complicated as expected. They pressed the big key with an angled arrow.  
No, wait, of course this was easy. Computers had been getting ever more popular over the years. The test subject rubbed their temples. The chemicals didn't damage their voice chords, alright, but that wasn't even close to their biggest concern.  
The folder revealed several files marked with “.exe” and a sub-folder marked “Voice modulation”. Every file showed a percentage, all filed under “use”. The kid was pissed off a lot, it seemed, but in general easy to make happy. And very scared. The column “last used” said 27min for “fear.exe” and “pain_modulation.exe”. Was that how long they had been wandering around here? Almost half an hour? More than enough time for that “boss” to find them.  
They wouldn't touch this for now. Instead, they switched back and looked for more important details.  
_/Name.nigel_function.protocol.sphere//_  
/corruption_34%//  
>handle.hydraulics_damage  
>holding.mechanism_damage  
>operational.status_unclear  
>administrator.remarks_rebellious.harmless.obedient  
/sleep.mode_charging//  
The test subject looked around, as if they expected somebody to barge in, but the corridor and offices were as quiet as before. They couldn't wait around for something to happen, but the only one able to guide them was in bad shape, getting worse, and had already proven to be untrustworthy.  
They felt vaguely sick, but attributed it to their growling stomach. They should try to find some supplies on the way out.  
First, get the work done. They tapped the core's shell, and shook him a little, but didn't dare to do much more in fear of doing further damage. He didn't give a response. The test subject couldn't even lift one of the plates covering the optic.  
It always had to be the hard way, didn't it? They went back to the computer and switched into Emotion Simulations. They double-clicked “pain_modulation.exe”.  
The core let out a scream that sent a shiver down the test subject's back, the face plates flying open with a bang.  
“What, holy science, what is going on, stop it, stop it, no, no, no, stop, it hurts, STOP!”  
The test subject hastily canceled the operation. The core went still again, the optic a tiny orange dot directed straight at them, trembling just enough to be visible.  
“Hold still,” the test subject told him. They selected some of the tools and began to work. Taking off parts of the shell was easy enough, but some parts seemed to be fixed on the inside, and it was the important parts. They did their best to find an opening, to get a good look at the broken parts and how to get them out. The core didn't struggle the whole time, but the moment the tools came close to the only useful opening, the core let out a triumphant yell and narrowed his face plates at them. “There we go. Bluetooth, baby! Not much longer and She'll know we're down here.”  
The test subject gave him a level look. They weren't even disappointed. This was no less than they had expected. While the core was still muttering to himself how clever he was for thinking of that option, the test subject grabbed another set of tools and pried open the small hatch on top of the sphere. The core broke off with a choked sound. “W-what are you doing? Get your dirty hands off me, I- I will-”  
“You will guide me out of here,” the test subject said, not taking away the pressure. They could see the broken claw fragments slipping from their assigned place deeper into a mess of wires and chips. “In turn, I repair you.”  
Despite not having a throat, the core's voice was rough, but there was a desperate kind of determination to his words. “N-No. No, I won't. I refuse! I won't betray science. You're... you're just some test subject. I'm keeping the paint test running. For the future. And science. Argh!”  
The test subject picked at the first fragment, but it was lodged deep between a bundle of wires leading to the optic and the core twitched every time they touched the surrounding parts.  
The test subject let go and dropped the tools back on the table. They didn't have time for this. “I will shut out the pain. But only if you cooperate.”  
“S-Screw you. I'm loyal. I'm a responsible personality sphere of Aperture Science and I sure won't be like those other two- Ahhhhh!”  
The test subject counted to ten before canceling the operation. Their ears rang, but that wasn't the problem. The core couldn't breathe, but the voice modulators simulated the sound quite well. His optic glitched from side to side for a few moments, while whatever his programming did wore off.  
“I don't enjoy doing this,” the test subject said. “Just help me leave and you can go back to your life.”  
“Sure, 'cause I won't get killed alongside you pathetic human! Whatever you do to me can't be worse than what she will do. I- Ahhhh!” Ten, fifteen, twenty.  
“It's not much I ask of you.”  
“Everybody does their part for science. Except you. You're disturbing everything and I won't let you-” Click. Twenty-five.  
“You're cleverer than this.”  
“None of what you do matters. Aperture never leaves business unfinished-” Click.  
The skin on their back seemed to be crawling upwards with every time they had to press that button. It was just a robot, they told themselves, no matter how convincing his impersonation of a human. Just a robot.  
Maybe it wasn't in his programming. Maybe this was all pointless and they were attracting the attention of everyone on this floor. They could just abandon the core and find their own way. They pressed the key again, fighting the urge to cover their ears.  
Twenty-two, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty seconds. Or what they counted as such. A keystroke and the pain simulation ended once more. The test subject listened to the voice modulators crackle in effort, awaiting yet another stream of curses and insults and propaganda phrases, all in the voice of a crying middle schooler. None of it came this time. He only gave an unintelligible whisper.  
The test subject stepped closer and met the core's gaze. The orange had faded to a vague brownish glow with occasional bright flickers. They lifted him up to their face, trying to make out what he was saying.  
“Please stop.” It was the same words, over and over and over. Just this. “No more.”  
“Show me the way out.”  
The optic flickered to life, the glow blinding the test subject for a moment. It faded after the first burst, only glitching to black or blinding yellow occasionally. “I can't help you,” he whispered. “She's gonna kill me. Please don't make me.” The test subject felt a cold claw in their chest silently slip upwards and settle around their throat. They didn't set the core down again.  
Click.  
He twitched in their arms, mechanics moving frantically by whatever algorithm controlled his thoughts and feelings. However good the impersonation of a human, he didn't have the capability of his voice breaking after all the strain. On the monitor, a tiny warning label began to flash.  
_> Overheating. Personality construct unstable._  
The test subject counted to ten. Their rage had dissipated. He was just doing his job. He was afraid. Weren't they all?  
Click.  
The mechanics kept on whirring, making the whole sphere tremble. It took a long time until he settled down. Even after his shell had stopped quivering, he didn't speak to them, didn't even dare to meet their gaze.  
The test subject lifted him up to eye level and he flinched in their hands, handles pressed to his body, every part pulled together as tight as possible.  
“No, please! I- I'll do what you want. Please don't hurt me anymore...” All rebellion had drained from his voice. He was too terrified to even spew the brainwashed nonsense Aperture had put into his system.  
The test subject stared at the monitor for a few seconds. The percentage next to the warning label dropped as they watched, then stabilized at 32%.  
“Good,” they said. “You can get me out of here, right? If she catches us, not your fault. I tortured you into collaboration.”  
“She'll send the droids down to get you,” the core informed them in a tiny voice. “Or just throw you down a shaft or something like that. Nothing I could do about it.”  
The test subject didn't answer. They scanned the endless lines of code before changing  
_> pain.simulation_active_ to _inactive_.  
Hopefully, this would work. They had never taken a particular interest in the science behind computers. The test subject returned to the desk and pried the opening a little wider. The core didn't say anything while they picked the lock fragments from the delicate mechanics. They could feel him shudder under every touch and had a strange thought: Exactly how intrusive felt this, whether it hurt or not? What would it feel like to be operated on, sensing every touch, every shift, without any way of escape or even to fight back?  
Eventually, they had found all the parts that were visible from the outside. That was all they could do for now. They erased the line of code again, and then moved the upper handle. It didn't get stuck anywhere, and the core didn't protest.  
Time to go. They picked up everything that seemed remotely useful, among it something that looked similar enough to a lock pick to be used like one, and what was hopefully a can opener. The jumpsuit had enough pockets to store everything comfortably.  
“Your battery?”  
“76%.”  
They left the office and followed the corridor, with their aide telling them to go left or right when they reached a crossroad. Otherwise, the core didn't speak.  
The offices all looked the same. Nothing changed, except some warning signs and the clutter inside the rooms. Eventually, they had the luck of finding a spiraling staircase that led three levels upwards. It felt good to use normal stairs again. Aperture never stuck to traditional building elements, rather leaving their people trapped should the facility ever break down.  
Instead, there were elevators, hidden doors and moving panels, all combined to form gigantic mobile test chambers. The dirty, worn-down appearance changed to the clean dark blue and silvery white the further they got, and the test subject found it increasingly hard to avoid the cameras moving mechanically over the rooms.  
“Why did you take me along?”, the core asked them. The test subject jumped and looked around for cameras, but could see none.  
Their guide's voice was flat and hopeless. He didn't look at them. “You could have escaped without me. Why go through all the trouble and waste so much time  >convincing< me?” The accusation was clear, even through his fearful hesitation. “There's a cafeteria behind the second door on the right. You humans like that, right?” The test subject contemplated the closed door. It might be a trap. But they had to conclude the core had no reason to lie and slipped through the door.  
The cafeteria was in the same disarranged state as everything else. Several cans and bottles had been strewn all over the floor. The test subject placed the core on a table and began picking up whatever they could find, stacking it next to their involuntary companion. He watched them silently, optic narrowed. There even was a vending machine with the same bright orange logo their testing associate had been praising throughout the testing track.  
The test subject managed to dig up a more or less clean spoon and fell down heavily on the next chair. It scraped over the floor as they pulled it close to the table and inspected their findings. Their throat ached at the sheer sight of the water bottles, but they forced themselves to check the bottles for damage. The first gulp of water was heaven. The next was better.  
They wanted to empty the whole bottle in one go and it took all their willpower to set it down after a few seconds to breathe and give their squirming stomach time to process the liquid. They counted to thirty between every mouthful of water. With every drop of water, their head cleared a little more.  
They had found about a dozen cans that didn't look damaged. The newest was stamped 1994. Canned food had been invented to last many years past the date of expiration, so they weren't actually worried, but it turned up a question that had been bugging them for quite a while.  
“What day is it?”  
“Tuesday,” the core provided immediately.  
“No, what date. What year are we in?”  
The core looked at them for quite a while, not saying anything. He flinched when the test subject so much as raised their hand from the table, almost rolling off the edge from the momentum.  
“I don't know,” he answered hastily. “It... It never mattered. We only use the days of the week for planning our shifts. The boss knows. I think.”  
The test subject stared at him, but had to conclude once more that he had no reason to lie, and was probably too afraid to do so anyway. They felt guilt gnaw at the edge of their mind. It would have been stronger if he hadn't indirectly admitted to killing an unknown number of people in these experiments. Aperture had some nerve, using a core with a child's voice. With the turrets, they at least had the certainty that these things weren't really sentient.  
They gave him a curt nod and then randomly selected one of the cans. The label was ripped and almost impossible to read. The can contained some vaguely red, watery liquid. They carefully smelled it. Tomato soup. Not their favorite, but better than nothing, right?  
They were about to dip the spoon into the soup, when the core nervously cleared his non-existent throat. “Um... not sure if you want to eat that. Ow!” The test subject flicked the spoon in his direction again, this time not touching the shell. Their stomach was screaming for food now, and they wouldn't have anyone stop them.  
“No, I mean, I'm offline, but I can still access some scanning protocols and-”  
The test subject glared at him. The core retreated a few inches, using his handle to shove himself backwards. “Um... maybe, you, uh, want a bowl or something like that?”  
His shell would make a good bowl. The test subject didn't say anything, but got up and rummaged the cupboards until they found one that wasn't as damaged as the others and more or less clean.  
They set the bowl down on the table with enough force to make the cheap wood vibrate, and poured the soup into the bowl. The same instant, they could barely resist the urge to kick the bowl away in disgust. White clots with spidery outgrowths like tentacles swam in the watery liquid, probably one or the other kind of fungus. They had almost eaten it. Almost.  
“T-Thank you.”  
“My protocols say that test subjects aren't allowed to eat anything that hasn't been previously tested,” the core explained cautiously.  
The test subject nodded slowly and pushed the bowl away from them, as far as possible without spilling it over the floor. They stared at the cans, torn between their desperately rumbling stomach and the sick feeling the sight of the fungus had caused.  
“You can try those on the right,” the core advised. The test subject grabbed a can and held it up. He nodded, rolling his sphere back and forth a little. It was a disturbingly human gesture. “Yup, that one.”  
They retrieved another bowl and poured the contents in. Lentil soup. They stirred it with the tip of the spoon, and smelled it. It seemed alright. They shot the core a quizzical glance.  
“My calculations say it's alright. I mean, I don't have everything on my hard drive, it's such a huge category. We had some real problems down in the sublevels with all the mold and everything, test subjects just didn't take that very well, and some animals living-”  
The test subject laid a finger on the metal just under the optic. The core fell silent, the glow of his optic dilating into a tiny orange point.  
The soup was cold and had lost most of its taste. The test subject didn't care. It was food, real, human food after what might have been an eternity of... whatever. They shoveled the whole can down with the overflowing spoon, occasionally splashing soup on their jumpsuit and the surroundings.  
The core watched them, face plates narrowed to a slit. A splash hit his handle and he shook it off in a panicked wiggle. “Uh... I guess you liked that?” After the briefest pause he added: “Ew. Guess humans are really only more intelligent animals.” The test subject grinned at him and put the bowl down with a content sigh. They could have continued eating for ages and then fallen asleep. It seemed like the best alternative in this technological nightmare. But it wasn't an option.  
“So, I... guess we can go on now?”, the core asked. “On to... whatever.”  
**“Oh yes, I'm sure you want to do that, Test Subject #3891. You can do great things with the help of a skilled assistant.”**  
The test subject jumped to their feet, automatically grabbing for their gun. Whatever use the gels would be right now. The voice was female, with the monotone edge they used to associate with robots. Her words made the whole room vibrate.  
“Boss!”, the core yelled, delighted. “Oh finally, I thought you'd leave me here with this crazy human.”  
The robot woman's voice was cold. “ **Oh, don't worry, I will get to you very soon.** ”  
The core went perfectly still, optic locked on an undefined spot in the ceiling. “W-What? But, I, I-”  
“ **It's been quite a while since a human caused this much trouble. I won't let it happen again.** ”  
The test subject made a dash for the door and didn't turn around even when they heard their involuntary partner shriek, in fear or pain, it was impossible to tell. The whole room shook and then tilted. They fell, the far wall suddenly turned into the floor and the floor into a wall. They spun in mid-air, losing track of what was top and bottom, their hands grasping the paint gun as if it meant their life, awaiting the lethal impact. There was none. Just the rush of air in their ears, and darkness.  
The current carried them upwards, their body finally stabilizing with their head opposite to the faint pull of gravity. It was pitch black, except for a vague blue aura around the top of the Paint Gun, not even enough to illuminate their hands. They tightened their grip around the gun as a bright spot appeared over their head, getting bigger by the second.  
Whoever that “boss” was, she wasn't all-powerful. There had been others that escaped. And she better shouldn't underestimate them.


	4. Meet the Queen

The vacuum tube catapulted them into the air thirty feet over the floor. Air rushed in their ears as they frantically scanned the room while they still had the chance.  
The “boss” was massive. Whatever they had expected a supercomputer to look like, it wasn't that. The computer was suspended from the ceiling, its body separated into three parts that reminded them vaguely of snake with its head raised to strike. It wore the same white shell as many of Aperture's inventions, black tubes and wires connecting the parts. A gigantic golden optic on a rectangular unit that had to count as the head fixed on the test subject. The movements were almost completely silent, and more fluent than a human's could ever be.  
The room was sixty feet high and easily a hundred and fifty feet in diameter. The boss followed the test subject with its burning golden eye. The floor opened up under the giant, making way for two shining silver arm with pincers at the end. They rose up like snakes, ready to grab and probably crush them.  
The test subject was ready as well. They splashed the floor under their feet with blue gel and bounced off, back into the air, avoiding the snapping claw by inches. The closing fangs made a hollow metallic sound as they crushed the air next to their feet. They were faster than any technology the test subject had ever seen, but not fast enough to beat a human, and could only reach them in a radius of maybe sixty feet around the robot. They only had to stay mobile and out of range.  
The next step would be to get out of here. There were ways around this place the supercomputer was unable to see, there had to be.  
The ceiling shuddered, all the panels moving in a rippling wave from center to the outskirts of the dome. They hit the test subject's shoulder and the world stopped abruptly, their head snapping forward. There was a wet cracking sound and a bolt of lightning shot through their spine, up into their head and down their back. The test subject gave a choked sound of pain, too stunned to scream. The world vanished in a red haze of dizziness and pain.  
“ **Quite the pathetic excuse for an escapee** ,“ the giant robot remarked. “ **I'm surprised you made it out at all. But what do I expect? Even I can't be everywhere.** ”  
“B-Boss, I'm so sorry, this shouldn't have happened in the first place, I'll do better from now on, please don't throw me into the incinerator.” Their testing associate's voice, although shrill with panic, was a strange kind of reassurance. He was still there. It was the most human voice they had heard in this place since they woke up. He wasn't human, of course. But with their eyes closed they could imagine he was.  
“ **Oh, don't worry,** ” the supercomputer remarked, malicious glee in her voice. “ **Throwing you into the incinerator would be a waste of material. No, you'll be useful to science in another way.** ”  
Shouldn't there be an impact? A crash and then darkness? Or were they lying on the floor of this technological prison, broken and delirious, fantasizing about a conversation that may or may not take place?  
Central Core. That was what the scribbles on the wall had said. They had seen them in quite a lot of test chambers, hidden behind broken panels, in places only an air shaft could reach, out of sight of the cameras. The little core had probably seen them too, but never mentioned anything, or even acknowledged it. It was the same handwriting that had made the drawings by the toilets, warning about Citranium, or what else was to come. They weren't alone in this facility, whether it was a robot or a human. Somebody was still fighting.  
This was the Central Core, now lonely head of Aperture, controlling the chassis and the life of everyone in this terrible place under the earth. Genetic Life Form and Disk Operating System.  
_GLaDOS._  
Their shoulder was pounding with each heartbeat, but the feeling returned to their body bit by bit. They weren't falling anymore. They lay, almost curled up in a fetal position, the paint gun locked between their legs and body. Blue light shone through their closed eyelids. It took all their willpower to open their eyes.  
The excursion funnel had caught them ten feet over the floor, only a second away from a lethal impact on whatever these panels were made of. The chassis was right next to them, a massive construct of wires and hardware, quietly buzzing.  
The core must have come here by the same vacuum delivery pipe, and the Central Core had grabbed him when he reached the chamber. He looked tiny in the giant claw, helpless and trembling pathetically.  
“I'll do my best, boss, I promise! All I care about is science, you know that.”  
GLaDOS ignored his nervous blubbering. The golden optic moved to fix on the test subject, the chassis following the movement, lifting the head unit up to meet the test subject's gaze. Only inches separated them now. Her head alone was as big as a human, the optic larger than their head.  
“ **Ah, you're back with us. I do admit, you are more skilled than I would have expected. Hard to guess with that package you're carrying around. I suppose the older stasis chambers are more generous with nourishment.** ”  
The test subject just stared at her. They heard the words and somehow it also became clear the AI was insulting them, but none of it mattered. This thing was _huge_. It controlled everything in here, it saw everything, it knew everything. And it had an almost human voice, a human intelligence, and it hated. It was very good at hating.  
The paint gun slipped from their trembling hands, getting caught in the blue glimmer of the excursion funnel. They didn't move an inch. They couldn't. Their shoulder pulsed in the rhythm of their heart beat, fast enough to become a constancy of pain and red flashes of light. The optic blinded them as the robot examined them, moving slowly back and forth.  
How could they have been insane enough to believe they could beat this monster?  
“ **Test subject #3891. You navigated the testing track very well, but your little excursion made all of that worthless. What a pity. We'll just put you back into stasis and a few years from now it won't matter what damage you caused to our scientific progress.** ”  
GLaDOS extended the claw and gently plucked the test subject from the excursion funnel. The pincers closed around their waist, vaguely uncomfortable, but not painful. Yet.  
A hatch opened in the floor, and another robot crawled out. It looked just like a core, with a turquoise optic. Arms and legs were attached to the core and carried it more or less steadily, although the fingers looked spindly thin and pointed enough to stab somebody with it. GLaDOS gently put the test subject down on the floor and retracted Her artificial hands. The test subject wanted to move, to run, to do anything at all. They couldn't. Their legs were trembling and their shoulder throbbed and they could barely breathe without throwing up. The robot came closer.  
“Thank you for assuming the party escort submission,” it quacked.  
“ **The special chamber** ,” GLaDOS instructed.  
“Yes, boss,” the robot replied dutifully. The test subject screamed when it touched their wounded shoulder. This isn't like me, they thought and immediately wondered why they thought so. What were they like? They couldn't remember.  
The escort robot hesitated, but GLaDOS had already turned away and lifted the other claw, still holding the tiny core.  
“ **I have to thank you. I thought there was nobody who knew more about this facility than me, but apparently I was wrong. There are just too many rats in here, don't you agree? Too bad not all of them react to neurotoxin.** ”  
The orange optic contracted into a tiny dot. “Y-You could hear that?”  
“ **Oh, I hear more than you think. But don't worry, I hold nothing against you. On the contrary.** ”  
“R-Really? Oh thank you so much boss, I knew you would understand-”  
The giant interrupted. Her tone was bored, with the smallest hint of glee. “ **Robots just don't test as well as humans. But we finally have a solution for that. You can be proud, you will be the first to test them.** ”  
The little core's optic blazed, not in anger or even defiance, but sheer panic. His voice modulators gave a dissonant shriek of feedback. “No! No, please boss, anything but that, I- I'm sorry, I'll do better, just don't put me in there.”  
“ **You said you care about nothing more than about science. Then do your part. You'll be a valuable asset in our quest. Others would kill for such an opportunity. I certainly will. If you didn't get that, this is what I mean: Either you obey or I will kill you.** ” The Central Core lifted him up and moved the claw over to the back side, where a small rectangular thing began to rise from the floor. “No, no, please, boss, this wasn't my fault, I'm just a testing associate, I'm not made for this, please don't!”  
The escort bot grabbed the test subject's ankles and began dragging them along. Every little bump sent a bolt of fire through their body. The core's desperate pleading faded in the distance as they left the central chamber. The robot brought them into an elevator and then they rode along in silence.  
The elevator stopped after a short while and continued its path sideways.  
Stasis didn't sound like such a bad idea. They had no idea what was wrong with their shoulder, but it would need time to heal. They would never get out of here as long as this thing was in charge. That was ridiculous. They would never see the sky again.  
The sky. They hadn't thought about it in a long time. Looking up at the stars, the city light sparkling in the distance, far away from cruelty and pain. The stars didn't care. They didn't judge.  
The elevator groaned and shuddered, then came to a halt. The robot jerked upright, optic buzzing over their surroundings.  
“Oh dear,” it said. “Gotta get you there some other way.”  
It used its spindly fingers to pry open the elevator door. The mechanics protested with a shriek, but moved. Something tiny landed on the top of the sphere with an undramatic clink. The robot's optic almost vanished on the top of its sphere while it tried to make out where the sound had come from. The test subject blinked. They could move their arm again, the left one at least. Their hands shook, but they could wipe their eyes and the world became clearer again.  
There was a tiny rectangular plate attached to the back of the core, out of its sight.  
“What is that?”, it asked. The robot jumped out of the elevator on the nearby catwalk, trying to get a glimpse at itself in the glass.  
The chip flashed white and the robot jerked, limbs shaking wildly. “Ajjejejejejejejejej,” it buzzed. There was nothing human to the voice now. It collapsed, twitching wildly, and the optic went black,  
The test subject stared at the fallen robot and wondered what would happen now. Would GLaDOS send someone else? Maybe they should just wait. They closed their eyes and imagined the night sky over them. The loneliness from back then was nothing like the loneliness now. It had been calming. The grass under their fingers, the distant sounds of the city, and the Milky Way above them. Some good music.  
“Uhm, hello? Helloooo? Can.... can you walk?”  
The voice cut into their daydream like a rusty knife into fresh bread. The test subject opened their eyes, annoyed at the interruption. A core hung over them. They recognized the muddy green optic. This core had sold them out to GLaDOS.  
The test subject grabbed the railing inside the elevator with their good hand and pulled themselves upwards. Their head spun, but the urge to vomit was gone in the anger surging through them once more. Nobody in here could be trusted. They couldn't even close their eyes for a few minutes and wait for their escort to get them back into stasis.  
The core retreated to a safe distance, nervously blinking its optic at them. “I guess you can. Then come with me, before She notices there is a problem.” The voice was clearly female and, much like their testing associate, sounded quite young. She also didn't sound very robotic.  
The test subject stared at the core. They would have wanted to cross their arms, but they needed all their grip on the railing. It shifted nervously on its management rail, throwing wild glances in both directions.  
“You want to get out of here, right? You'll need our help. And we need yours. If anyone can make it, it's you. You match two other test subjects that made it out.”  
Two of them? The other core had only mentioned one. As if his word counted for anything.  
They shook their head. It was true, they wanted to see the night sky again, but...  
The core stared at them for a few seconds, and her voice became a little more desperate. “Listen, I know you don't trust me after the stunt we pulled, but if you stay here, the next party escort will throw you into the incinerator. GLaDOS doesn't screw around with threats to her facility.”  
The core spun at a sound down the catwalk. “Hurry, please, if she catches us we're both scrap metal. I shouldn't even be here.”  
The test subject suppressed an annoyed growl, but climbed out over the railing. It wasn't easy, with whatever the impact had done to their shoulder, but eventually, they crashed down on the catwalk more or less elegantly. They stared up at the core and lifted one arm. _Now what?_  
“Come along. There's a maintenance tunnel a bit further down.” The core hesitated, the optic running over them from head to toe. “She damaged you.”  
The test subject cocked their head with brows furrowed. _You don't say._  
The green-eyed core turned to face down the catwalk in one direction. “I'll get you down to the medical core, she can fix you.” The test subject walked in the assigned direction without bothering to answer. It had been a mistake talking to these damned robots at all. They were no living things, and they were treacherous.  
The core – presumably the Economy Core their testing associate had mentioned – showed them to an opened panel that led into a narrow tunnel, only lit by red emergency lights.  
The pain was diminishing by now, but bending over still felt like their arm was being pulled from its socket bit by bit. When they dared to turn their head, there was a visible bulge, just under the spot where their shoulder was supposed to be. The test subject clenched their teeth and kept on walking. The core didn't try to speak to them again until they left the tunnel and entered a stairway that spiraled down into blackness.  
“I'm the Economy Core,” the sphere introduced herself. “But most people call me Fran. Well, that's the name I was assigned. Or it was always my name and carried over. I'm still working on that.”  
Fran changed the management rail with a click when they reached the next floor.  
“I- I'm sorry for selling you out. Not sure if you noticed, but the boss lady is really scary and has no patience. It's nothing personal, really, but every core that helps a human... only two made it out so far. Everyone else just... the boss lady, she...” The core shuddered and gave a sound like a choked sob. It took her three floors to contain herself again.  
“She promised me not to hurt Nigel if we helped her catch you.”  
The test subject gave her a level look. That had obviously gone well. Fran avoided their gaze and vanished in a hatch on the wall, but not without instructing them to take the next door to the right. It led to a run-down office, full of dirty cubicles and shut-down computers, mixed in with debris from the hole-filled ceiling.  
“We call this the junkyard. Allegedly, one of the rogues and his test subject started out here. The boss lady's reach doesn't extend this far, so we should be safe for a while.”  
The test subject nodded. The rooms were wet and stank of something they didn't want to think about, ten times worse than human waste.  
“They had to fight the security system, AEGIS, when they wanted to escape. He flooded all sublevels with toxic goo... so you better shouldn't stay here for long, I think.”  
Maybe it was just her words, but the test subject was beginning to feel a little light-headed. They sped up their pace, until they reached a staircase and got out of the wet rooms.  
A security system that targeted former test subjects?  
If that wasn't just lovely.  
“In here,” Fran said. The test subject turned a corner and was greeted by the word INFERMARY in faded blue letters. They blinked at it. They had always assumed their spelling was reasonably good, but this was a science company, right? The longer they looked at the writing, the less sure they were.  
“The guy who wrote this was fired,” Fran said. “But Cave Johnson was too stingy to have it corrected.”  
The test subject nodded, frowning, but sure of their own mental capacities again and continued to walk. Cave Johnson... The name rang a bell, though they could not place it just now. He must have been an executive of some sort.  
The door slid open before they even got close, and revealed another white corridor. Everything was designed to be lifeless and sterile. They could almost smell the disinfectant. None of the rooms they passed had been in use for who knew how long, but at least it was more or less clean. Their steps and the whirring of the management rail echoed eerily in the tomb-like hallway.  
The test subject wished for their paint gun, whatever use it might be now. With their wounded shoulder and in this narrow space, probably none, but at least they would have something to hold on to.  
But they didn't have it and all they could do is trust this core who could definitely not be trusted. The encounter with the “boss lady” had shaken them up, alright. They weren't embarrassed by their sudden loss of determination, no, that wasn't it. The supercomputer was terrifying, and she had taken them out with ease. There was no way they would survive another direct confrontation. But GLaDOS had let them go and here they were, more or less free from being spied on – if the Economy Core was telling the truth. For all they knew, she was the same kind of backstabbing liar as their testing associate.  
What had GLaDOS done to him, for that matter? She didn't want to kill him, that much was clear. How much worse could it be than getting thrown into an incinerator?  
The test subject stepped through another automatic door and stopped dead. The room was large, not as large as the Central Core's dome, but large enough to be intimidating. Most of it was cloaked in shadow, except for a kind of mechanical chair in the middle, lit up by strong surgical lights.  
“Ah, hello. You're the test subject.”  
They spun and immediately lost their balance, a red wave crashing into their brain. Somebody grabbed their good arm and pulled them along until they fell down on an even surface at the height of their thighs. They frantically felt around, only finding worn-down, once sterile upholstery. The lights stung in their eyes, blinding them. The hand gently pushed them down and adjusted their position until they lay comfortably, their back at a 45° angle.  
“Don't be scared.” The voice was female, not as high-pitched as Fran's, but not as harsh as GlaDOS's either. There was even the hint of an accent. Spanish, maybe?  
“My name is Brooke. I'm the Medical Core. Or was. You're the first patient I had in ages. Test subjects usually don't get here.”  
The test subject screamed when something touched their bad shoulder. Their eyes began to adjust to the bright lights and they didn't like what they saw. The chair was surrounded by tools on mechanical arms, scalpels and syringes and robotic hands and things they couldn't even name. It looked like something out of a torture chamber. For all they knew, it might be one. The Central Core's special chamber? And they had been stupid enough to fall for it.  
The test subject tried to get up, and one of the robotic hands settled down on their good shoulder. “Please calm down,” the female voice said. “You're just hurting yourself.”  
They did not calm down. If they were to die here, they'd go down fighting, even if their performance against the Central Core had been pitiful at best. But no matter how hard they struggled, it only made the pain worse and got them no closer to escaping. Eventually, they fell back, breathing hard and with cramps shaking their body. This didn't help. They needed a new plan.  
Some of the harsh lights shut off with a clicking noise, leaving greenish afterimages in the test subject's vision. There was another core, this one a bit bigger, the parts rougher and less smoothly fit into each other, sitting at a kind of desk. The optic was a bright blue, like a tropical ocean, sprinkled with white and golden pixels. Brooke's voice was calm, but there was a kind of tension behind her words, something that could almost be interpreted as worry.  
“I know you're scared. But you don't have to be. I swear to the creators that I don't intend any harm. And if that's not enough to convince you, think about it like this: _I was made_ to heal humans. It's my sole purpose of existence. When Aperture was... taken over, I became superfluous. But now you're here. You're hurt and that makes me responsible for your well-being.”  
The test subject glared at the core. Sure. Their testing associate had been responsible for them as well, he had agreed to help them. And he had stabbed them in the back at the first chance. GLaDOS could do whatever the hell she wanted with that little rat, the test subject wouldn't shed a tear over his fate. They didn't even know why they had cared in the first place.  
They closed their eyes and waited. They hated waiting, more than anything. There was no worse torture than not being able to do anything at all, being completely helpless and just having to wait for your chance. Whatever that Medical Core was planning, they had no say in it.  
Lights moved over them, colorful flashes that shone through their eyelids, but no touch.  
“Your shoulder is dislocated,” Brooke announced after a while. “But barely any ruptures in the blood vessels. Once its back in place you should be able to move without risk in the matter of a few days.” She paused, sounding doubtful. “We don't have that much time, do we?”  
“No!”, Fran snapped. “We don't! Just... get on with it, okay?” She sounded as close to tears as a robot could without actual tear ducts.  
“Hold still. This will hurt, but it's the only way,” Brooke announced. The top part of the chair rose in an upright position with a pitiful squeal. The test subject opened their eyes again, looking around for a chance to escape. They knew how to relocate a limb. Probably. They had vague recollection of doing so before. Either way, there was no reason to let that robot-  
They screamed so loud it made the core's optic vibrate.  
One mechanical arm held their body between shoulder and neck, the other grabbed the arm just under the shoulder and pulled. The tendons seemed to creak and then the joint snapped back in its place. The test subject doubled over, their stomach revolting. For a moment, it felt like they would have to vomit, but they forced themselves to breathe calmly until the cramps wore off. They only had this little bit of food, they couldn't waste it.  
The floor swam in front of their eyes and they only vaguely wondered why they hadn't fallen off yet. Something stung in their neck, a spasm of some sort probably. One of the mechanical arms had sneaked around their waist and pulled them back up. It held them until their breathing slowed down and they felt their head clear.  
“Vitals are under average... You really solved the last paint test? I told them the hibernation protocols were corrupted...” Brooke kept muttering to herself, her sparkling optic moving over whatever she saw on the control panel.  
The test subject straightened up, trying not to cough for fear of not stopping until their lungs just fell out. Their throat felt like it was bare flesh. If only they had some more water...  
“Here. It's probably a bit stale, but drinkable.” One of the robotic hands offered them a glass filled with transparent liquid. It had a cracked edge and looked only questionably clean, but it was better than nothing. The test subject stared at it, doubtful, but took a little sip. As Brooke had said, the water was stale, but still felt good. It didn't help their rough throat, long term.  
“Are we done?”, Fran asked. She was zipping back and forth on her management rail, probably a core's equivalent of pacing up and down. “Are you good now?”  
“Francesca, humans don't work like that. They need rest. Let, uh, them sleep.” Brooke stared at her screen, lowered the upper face place as if squinting, then seemed to decide to drop the topic. Her sprinkled optic focused on the test subject again.  
“Hold still, please.” The test subject had to fight the urge to flinch, but let the robot do her work. In the end, she did nothing more than fix their arm in a sling. Brooke stared at the panel for a few seconds, then nodded, her whole body tilting back and forth.  
“There are field beds just in the next room. Rest a bit, and then we can talk. Can you walk on your own?”  
“But-” Fran broke off, flinching back from Brooke's glare.  
The test subject shook their head and got up. They wouldn't stay here any longer. Their legs might be a bit more shaky than they would like, but there had to be a way to get away from all these damned robots. Even if they seemed friendly now, they couldn't be trusted.  
Brooke let out an audible sigh. “You were in the test chambers for hours,” she reminded them. “You don't know where you are or how to get anywhere you can navigate from. If you walk out now, you will probably die in the matter of a few days.”  
The test subject stopped. Why did all these robots have to pull the begging card? You could almost think they actually cared. Sleeping meant letting your guard down. It was too dangerous in a place like this.  
Unfortunately, it was just as dangerous anywhere else. They were offered a bed, after all, and that was more than they could reasonably expect.  
Brooke made a strange hopping motion until there was a click and she moved over to them on a management rail near the floor. “Through here, please. Don't trip. Not sure who designed this place, but they obviously were an idiot.”  
The test subject followed the Medical Core into the next room. Dozens of beds lined the walls, each of them covered in dusty plastic foil. They just picked the one closest to the door, pulling off the plastic with one hand. Their shoulder had stopped trying to imitate being stabbed with a rusty ax and had gone to a low pounding that was just on the verge of being uncomfortable.  
They laid down on the bed, carefully adjusting their position to not put pressure on their bad shoulder. Now that they were here, the couldn't ignore the crushing weariness any longer.  
“We can't wait that long! Do you have any idea what She-” Fran's voice was shrill even while she attempted to whisper. Brooke shushed her. The rest of the conversation was lost. Only seconds after finding a comfortable position, the test subject was asleep.  
They didn't remember dreaming while they were in stasis. Maybe they did, or maybe it was just too artificial of a rest to allow for any dreams. This was real sleep, the first one in who knew how long. And they dreamed.  
They were in a kind of office. It was a familiar place, somewhere they spent a lot of time for some reason, even though the details were fuzzy. Just a small room with a cluttered desk. Their desk? They sat behind it, legs crossed, pen and notepad in hand.  
On the other side sat a man and a woman. Both middle-aged, both looking hunched and scared, with graying brown hair. They wouldn't have stood out in a crowd, even if someone pointed at them.  
“They cut everything off,” the woman said. “You're our last hope.”  
The test subject looked down at the desk. There was a photograph. They had seen it before, several times. They had studied it. They would recognize the person instantly.  
“Of course I will,” they said to the couple.  
They got the mail. There was a letter with a logo on it. Aperture's logo. They didn't even need to read it to know what was inside. They packed a bag, and began to drive. As they did, things faded into the night sky. Galaxies. Stars. Suns. Endless black void.  
This awakening was not at all like the one in the relaxation vault. They drifted back into consciousness slowly, their body still floating on a cloud of comfortable drowsiness. They knew they didn't have time to lie around. For all they knew, the two cores had betrayed them already, selling their location out to Her. But if so, two minutes wouldn't make a difference either. They had to wonder, what did the dream mean? Was it a memory? The stasis had taken away most of what they knew about themselves, save for very few snippets of thoughts and feelings, the longing for human contact, the endless sky, the touch of wind and grass. What had made them come to this terrible place, so that they somehow ended up in the clasp of a deadly machine pretending to do science?  
“Are you awake? Oh, finally!” The high-pitched voice cut into the haze, ripping it to shreds until it was nothing more than a memory.  
The test subject opened their eyes. This was the second time this annoying little ball of junk had interrupted them. Fran stared at them with her optic huge and glowing bright.  
“Are you mad now?”  
The test subject rose with a grunt, wiping sleep out of their eyes. Fran made an uncertain sound but didn't speak up.  
“What?”, they snapped.  
Fran stared at them. They stared back.  
“You can talk,” the core whispered. She sounded even more like a child now, half way between terrified and amazed. The test subject nodded, angry that they had broken their resolution so soon.  
“Fran, help me out here,” Brooke's voice came from the other room. “Test subject, facilities are at the end of the room. I got you breakfast.”  
Fran shot them a doubtful look, but then retreated through the door. The test subject got up and stretched. They felt surprisingly refreshed, much more than after waking up from stasis. Their shoulder protested a little when they accidentally moved the arm too quickly, but it was barely a little sting.  
As promised, there was a bathroom at the end of the room, including a shower. They stared at the rusty shower heads, then decided to give it a shot. The first water that came out was brown, but after a while, it cleared. By some miracle, it was even warm, not too hot, but also not cold. Just the right temperature. They stripped the dirty jumpsuit and stepped under the shower. They didn't move. They just watched dirt and sweat run down into the drain while the water poured over them. It felt good. It felt human.  
Only when they got out, they noticed a slightly moth-eaten towel on a shelf and a pile of clothes next to it. It was the same outfit they had already worn, without dirt stains and paint splatters.  
They dried off and slipped into the clothes. After a moment of hesitation, they also took the apron again. Not that they had their paint gun anymore, or any of the small tools they had gathered on the way. Great. Just great.  
Last, they put on the long fall boots again, stuffing the hem of their pants into the top to ease the pressure on their skin.  
Brooke and Fran spun with differing levels of urgency when the test subject walked into the operating room again. Brooke flicked her optic towards a bowl filled with some sort of greenish substance on a small table next to the chair. The test subject sat down and stared at it.  
“Your file says you're not allergic to anything, is that correct?”  
The test subject nodded slowly. They took up the spoon and carefully dipped it into the mix. Some lumps looked like they could be kale, with some imagination applied, as well as all sort of vegetables. Some things weren't recognizable at all. They filled the spoon and tried, without any of the pieces swimming in the soup.  
It tasted absolutely awful.  
“The most nutritional I could find. You'll need your strength,” Brooke said. “It contains everything the human body needs to survive under extreme physical activity.”  
The test subject stared down at the bowl, then at the core. She didn't even seem to notice. Did robots even have taste? Their testing associate had mentioned something of a simulation, hadn't he?  
They ate the soup. All of it. It was an effort and more than once they thought they would have to spit it all out again, but they got it down. Brooke had placed a glass of water on the table and they used it to get rid of the taste.  
When they got out of here, they would get something decent to eat. Like a burger. Or just Chinese takeout. God, they would kill for a good burrito.  
Fran had been shifting on her management rail the whole time, mechanics whirring quietly while she flicked her optic to random points in the room. It wasn't hard to guess she wanted to say something, but didn't dare to.  
“Why did you help me?”, the test subject asked.  
Fran took an audible and completely pointless breath to start a sentence, only to be interrupted.  
“You want to get out of here, don't you?” Brooke flicked her upper handle at the ceiling. “Well, it's not impossible. There were two humans who made it out, with the help of a core. One of them even defied the lady upstairs to do so. It's not impossible. But neither of us can guide you out. We're restricted to this part of the facility.”  
The test subject nodded slowly. Why were they even surprised? This had been to damn obvious from the beginning. And they hated every bit of it.  
“But Nigel can,” Fran chimed in. She didn't let her gaze linger, instead looking at all the dark corners as if she was expecting hidden menaces to pop out at any second. “He has access to the Enrichment Center and the vacuum tubes.”  
The test subject stared at her. What did these robots think? That they were completely stupid? They wouldn't trust that lying, backstabbing rat even if it was the last entity alive in here.  
“It's your only chance of getting out of here alive,” Brooke said.  
“You have to help him!”, Fran begged. Her khaki optic focused on the test subject, quivering just enough to be visible. “Please. You got him into this, and now... oh, science!” She turned away, shutting her metal lids tight. “I don't even want to imagine what She's putting him through.”  
Brooke avoided their gaze when they looked up at her. “We're not actually able to die, unless the whole hardware gets destroyed. I'm not a maintenance core, but our perceptions are modeled after a human, as far as I know.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I'm just a Medical Core. I don't get human logic very well beyond their reaction to pain. But here's the deal: If you want to get out of here alive, you will need a guide. Nigel is the only one whose software is up to date with the Enrichment Center. You save him, and in return, he'll lead you out.”  
The test subject crossed their arms and stared at her. They really took them for an idiot, didn't they?  
Brooke sighed quietly. “To GlaDOS, Nigel is a traitor. He helped you, even if it wasn't voluntarily. And now he gets punished for being loyal to Aperture. What reason would he have to help Her again? He's not actually an idiot, you know.”  
The test subject waved a hand, indicating both of them, and put on a questioning expression.  
“Us? Oh, everybody just tries to stay out of Her range... Only the most devoted or crazy cores dare work under Her. As I said, we're superfluous. And unnecessary things... get incinerated.”  
The test subject nodded. This was a terrible idea. In fact, it was the most ridiculous excuse for a plan they had ever heard. For all they cared, that little traitor could rot in android hell.  
Except that was only what they wanted to tell themselves. God, he was still a kid. Or at least sounded like one. Fran certainly seemed to care a lot about him. And, all sentimentality aside, they would never get out of here without a guide. They had had a plan when they woke up. Snippets of layut, of escape routes. But the stasis had taken it away as it had taken their memory of who they were.  
The plan was insane, and their insides already shook when they thought about confronting the giant again. But like hell they would just sit down and die. That green sludge hadn't nearly been good enough to count as a last meal.  
“Fine,” they said. “Where do we start?”


	5. The New Test Subject

“Come around here,” Brooke said. They did. The monitor on the control panel changed to a map.   
Well... It was probably a map. There were so many corridors, tubes and rooms it blended into a visual cacophony of bright blue, barely letting through the dark background.  
“No, no, not like that...” The core shook itself, and after a moment, most of the lines disappeared. A tiny dot wandered through the maze, then they climbed to the next level, and the next, before continuing their path. It was hypnotizing, just following the blinking light with their gaze.  
“We're at sublevel 13 now,” the Medical Core provided. “I'm pretty sure She will keep him in the test chambers upstairs. Fran can bring you there. We need to create a diversion, so you can get him out. Well, and then... then you leave Aperture.”  
The test subject gave her a skeptical glance. That wasn't exactly what one would call a good plan. That wasn't even a plan at all. So they would get the backstabbing little rat out. How? From where? It wasn't that they were up to do much, even if they still had their questionably useful weapon.  
“Um... Well... Once you're in the Enrichment Center, Nigel will be able to send an elevator to the surface. Possibly. If She's distracted enough. We can do the diversion, that's not it, just... um...” The core let her handles drop with a clang.   
“Who am I kidding? This is a terrible idea. But... if you want to get out you need a guide. And, and...”  
“Screw that!”, Fran interrupted. “Nigel is our friend, we can't just leave him!”  
Brooke looked at her, upper faceplate slightly lowered. Somehow she managed to look like a mother watching a stubborn child. Fran let out a snort and spun around herself without any visible reason.  
“Yeah, fine, he's not always nice, and most cores don't like him, but we're all just doing what we do to survive. He never sold us out, even if he would have profited from it.”  
“Fran, we don't even know where he is right now,” Brooke reminded her gently. “She might just have put him into android hell for all we know.”  
“She wanted to do this experiment for weeks. No way she's passing up that opportunity.”  
“As if we understand how She thinks. If it would really work, She'd have done it already.”  
The test subject took a few slow, deep breaths, rubbing the bridge of their nose. This was a suicide mission.   
“You bring me upstairs, I'll check-”  
“Wait.” Brooke spun around herself twice before coming to an abrupt halt. The screen changed, too fast to be readable for any human. “The maintenance core redirected some of the activation protocols down here before he left. The fizzlers just went online again. I can pinpoint their location when the doors at the end of the chambers get activated. We just need to wait in one of the test chambers down the track.” The excitement dropped out of her voice. “Well, you will. And not in the test chamber. More like behind a panel, so She doesn't see you.” The Medical Core turned to look at the test subject. “Alright then. Sit down, I should check you through again, just to be sure.”  
They did as they were told. There was not a whole left to do otherwise. One of the mechanical arms held a device that gave off some strange green light. It wandered over their body twice, then went back in its original position.  
The test subject watched Fran as she paced up and down on her rail, never standing still or looking at the same spot for more than a second. How did they end up together anyway, with him being a devoted and annoying conformist, while these two had to rot down here, always scared of being caught? What kind of friendship was that?  
The management rail gave an audible crack. Fran stopped, startled, then picked up her movement again. At least they had friends, for all it was worth.   
The test subject tried to think of their life before they woke up in the stasis chamber. Had they had friends? A family? Maybe even a partner? A pet? They couldn't remember, none of it. Everything that had defined them, everything they had achieved throughout their life, gone.  
“Alright,” Brooke announced. “Your vitals are at normal levels again. Looking good.” She simulated the sound of clearing her throat. “Be careful with your shoulder, though.”   
The test subject nodded and was about to stand up when it hit them. They moved their arm, in every direction, careful but determined. They were still sore, but it didn't compare to the pain before. They almost said yesterday, but the truth was, they had no idea how much time had passed. They stared at Brooke and moved their arm in demonstration.  
The core avoided their gaze for as long as she could, cleared her throat again, despite the fact she didn't have one to begin with, and yet couldn't bear her patient's suspicious glare.  
“I... Okay, this will sound bad, and I understand if you're angry,” she talked faster with every word, just spilling everything in a hurry to explain herself. “I injected you with a serum that's supposed to speed up cell regeneration. I figured if you wanted any chance at getting out of here, you'd have to be in as good a shape as possible. And, um, you slept... a bit longer than usual.”  
“Yeah, 28 hours!”, Fran yelled. “And Nigel is going through whatever up there, maybe She got bored with him and killed him already, or She's thinking of even worse ways to torture him!” Her high-pitched, childish voice left an unpleasant ring in the room.  
“The serum works best while sleeping. It's... a side effect of sorts,” Brooke explained.  
The test subject looked at her. If Aperture had technology like this, why had they been going bankrupt? The Long Fall Boots, the gels, and now a miracle cure. You could make a fortune with one of these alone.   
“It was experimental,” Fran explained. Her optic kept wandering over the dim room. “No one really knows what other side effects might occur. So hurry up, okay?”  
The test subject got up, nodding to the Medical Core. If this turned out to be a trap, it was too late now. And somehow, they felt that Brooke didn't mean any harm, just like she had said. What reason would she have?  
They walked to the door, tying the apron around their waist. Fran raced past them on her rail, already disappearing through the hatch next to the door.  
“Um... hey,” Brook called after them. They stopped. “I... I didn't ask your name. They always delete them from the files and... you know, we always talk about the escapees, but we never learned their names... we only call them the tenacious test subject and the Olympian.”  
The test subject stopped and looked back. The Medical Core appeared tiny in the giant room, just a spark of blue with sprinkles of stars.   
“Jamie,” they said. “But people used to call me Storm.”  
They walked out before Brooke could see their confusion. Had people called them that? The words had just slipped out, like the addition was a habit. What a ridiculous nickname.  
Fran was anxiously waiting for them on the corridor. “What are you waiting for, hurry!” And she zipped past them again, vanishing in the distance. The test subject followed. Well, they had a name now. They weren't even sure whether it was their actual name, if it was what they would find in the files, if they hadn't been destroyed or erased. But it felt right. It was something to hold on to.  
Fran led them through an opening created by a jammed panel, past giant stomping machines like elephant's feet, pounding down with deadly force, a steady, heavy rhythm. The heartbeat of the facility, so to say. They couldn't guess at the use of these things, but despite the constant threat, the rooms were easy to navigate.   
Once in a while, Fran stopped, as if she was listening for something, then led them on. She barely spoke, and when she did, her voice was tense and fearful. The test subject had lost all sense of time down here, but it couldn't have been very long until the core stopped again.  
“Wait a moment. We're close.”  
Fran vanished behind a panel. The test subject obliged, scanning the room for anything useful. None of the tools they had found would help them in a test chamber. But alas, no luck here, either.   
The room was nothing special, the ceiling somewhere high over their head, everything tainted with the red emergency lights that dominated in the maintenance areas. In all the rough stones and rusty metal, something white and shiny caught their eye. “Hello?”, a child-like voice asked softly.   
The test subject jumped, their hands grasping for a weapon that wasn't there. They reacted instinctively, hiding behind the next machine of unknown use. Their knees hit the ground hard enough to bruise them. The pain set in several seconds late, when they were already curled up and able to suppress the groan of pain they couldn't hold in.  
Over the sounds of Aperture's breath, the noise had been almost inaudible, but now they could hear a steady rhythm, like nails tapping on a desk and then the sound of metal being hauled over the floor.  
Click-click-drag. Click-click-drag.  
They couldn't locate the noise, but it was somewhere in front of them. They breathed out slowly, easing the tension in their muscles. You couldn't dodge very well if you were lying in a fetal position. In. Out. They had to keep their head clear.  
When they had stopped shaking, they raised their head, just enough to spy over the edge of their hiding place.   
The thing resembled a turret as much as a dinosaur resembled a bird, related, but by far not the same. The body of two turrets, or at least the front parts, stuck out of a modified cube, like an ugly crab in a shell. The legs clicked when they hit the ground and the turret-cube-hybrid dragged its burden along. Those sure wouldn't win any beauty contests.   
Red lasers focused on the test subject, the light stinging in their eyes. They froze.  
“Hello,” the turret said.  
“Hello,” his companion echoed, with barely audible delay. The test subject waited, not moving a muscle. Did these actually react to movement? For a panicked second, they were painfully aware that they didn't know for sure. They never tested it, too focused on preparing their escape.   
Nothing happened.  
The test subject breathed out slowly, the tension dropping from their shoulders like a dead weight just falling off. At second glance, the turrets were missing their wings. If they still had bullets, they wouldn't be able to fire them.  
“Where are you?”, Fran's voice came from outside the panel. “What- Ugh!”  
The test subject left their hiding place. The turrets let off some of their usual phrases, but didn't try to follow them. Fran hung from the rail just inside the panel, but didn't even acknowledge the test subject. She just stared at the turrets, and when she spoke, her voice shook with disgust.  
“I thought She had gotten rid of all of these.”  
The test subject gave her a quizzical glance, but Fran turned around, shuddered visibly, and vanished through the panel. “Hurry,” she pressed. “It's even worse than I thought.”   
They gave the cube one last confused glance and filed the encounter away under “confusing, but harmless” before following the core.   
The panel led to another catwalk, then a ladder, which they climbed using mostly their good hand, several more catwalks, and eventually a hole in the wall, where some panels had broken down.  
“That's the closest I can get,” Fran informed them. “We'll try to distract Her, so you can get him out.”   
The test subject stared at the hole, leading out onto a paint-splattered surface. They knew where they were now. They knew it far too well.   
“Thank you,” Fran whispered. By the time they turned around, she was already gone.   
The test subject sighed and climbed the last few rungs, before slipping through the hole. Had they known there was a ladder on the other side when they removed the panels, taking the core with them would have been out of the question from the beginning. Just another example of feelings and doubts screwing up perfectly good plans. That seemed to be one of their more dominant traits. Marvelous to learn that now.  
The entrance lay in the shadow of a testing element, something that resembled a container, but wasn't as far as they could tell. The mist from the bottom of the chamber drifted around their legs, making goosebumps break out on their bare shins. The maintenance tunnels had been warm with steam hissing out of pipes occasionally and the heat from the machines, but the test chambers were several degrees colder. It was a good way to keep test subjects moving.  
They put all their weight on their thighs instead of feet while they sneaked into the chamber. It was a neat mental trick to keep them from setting their feet down too hard. They reached the unit, covered in colorful scribbles, and carefully peeked around it. The testing track was empty.   
“ **That was quite well done** ,” GlaDOS's voice echoed in the vast room. They froze in place, suddenly shaking. It had been a trap. Of course it had been a trap. All that innocent, friendly behavior was just an act, a simple program running in a machine.   
They really were terrible at judging character.  
“ **Considering you've only managed to almost fail most of the tests and ran into a laser twice. How are you feeling? Is the pain simulation still running? Wait, let me kick it up a bit.** ”  
Silence followed, but only because the Central Core could amplify her voice, while the boy at the door couldn't. The test subject stared at him, aghast.  
He was fairly short, if the door behind him was any indication. Maybe five foot six at the most, all lanky limbs and pale skin under ruffled brown hair. Some front strands were dyed orange, or maybe it was just paint, and covered half of his face. He wore the attire of a test subject, splattered with paint, and everything about him conveyed that he could barely stand on his feet anymore. As GLaDOS spoke, he cringed, staggering against the wall. Some kind of black bandages were wrapped around his lower arms, ending in fingerless gloves.  
If they had to make a guess, he couldn't be older than fourteen.   
The boy said something, and GLaDOS immediately punished him, judging from the cramp running through his scrawny body. He almost fell to his knees, dropping the paint gun, but caught himself on the door frame.  
“ **You always wanted to try this out for yourself, after all. You stated so on several occasions. But I digress. Despite some... mishaps, you're better at this than expected, testing associate. This next test should be more on your level.** ”  
The boy fought to get up, somehow getting into a standing position, his legs trembling visibly even over all this distance. He almost fell flat on his face again when he tried to pick up the paint gun. He didn't, though, and began to work his way through the test. The first jump was almost too short because he couldn't get enough momentum, and when he landed close to the edge he almost tripped. The next one was slightly too long, but eventually, he learned to use the propulsion gel to replicate the strength he had had at the beginning of the testing track.  
The boy worked his way through the test with obvious effort, getting ever closer to the test subject. It took them most of the time he needed to go through the first half, until they noticed what bothered them about the boy. He couldn't avoid bumping into some edges, scraping across the floor and walls, and even got dangerously close to a laser once, but not once there was a drop of blood.  
The boy jumped off the platform, blue gel catapulting him into the air and onto the unit the test subject was hiding on. Gel had run over the handle of the gun, and it slipped from his fingers on impact, sailing away into the darkness. The boy tried to catch it, staggered, and tripped over his own feet. He didn't even make a move to catch his fall.   
His body hitting the ground caused a vaguely metallic reverberation, combined with a groan almost too quiet to be heard. For several seconds, nothing happened. The boy just lay there, panting, his ragged breaths intercepted with sobs he was too tired to utter.   
The test subject would have expected the Central Core to make a remark, or even punish the boy for his breakdown, but nothing happened. Maybe she enjoyed seeing him at the end of his strength too much.   
“Last test chamber,” he whispered. “It's for science.” He got his hands under his skinny chest and pushed. The skin over his elbow had ripped in whatever accident, revealing a kind of second shell, only half covering wires and synthetic muscle.   
His whole body trembled, but he somehow managed to get up. He used the dirty bandages to wipe his face and winced back immediately, as if in pain. It almost made him stumble again. The boy scanned the area, looking for his Paint Gun. It had rolled way behind the container, out of sight of the cameras, right across the test subject's hiding spot.   
“I'm almost there.” Even with all imagination applied, there was not a trace of conviction in his words.   
The moment he stepped behind the container, the test subject lunged at him. He was skinny enough to pin his arms to his sides before he had even time to react, and they hastily held his mouth shut with the other hand.   
His reaction was delayed, but all the more violent, considering he hadn't been able to stand just seconds ago. He dealt them a painful elbow jab to the ribs that almost made them let go on reflex. Instead, they tightened their grip and dragged him further into the shadows. The test subject wasn't sure if they would have been able to hold him without the rest they had gotten, and even so, their shoulder gave a cry of pain. He struggled, tried to kick them and writhed like a fish, trying to break free and cry out for help – for about ten seconds. There was a sudden pause, and the test subject could feel the hair on their arms rise from an electrical surge, and then he just collapsed in their arms.   
The android body was warm, barely cooler than a normal human body and surprisingly light. They could feel his faint breath run over their fingers and the artificial muscles trembling. He had given up any attempt at fighting, didn't even stand on his own anymore. The former testing associate just stared up at them with wide, frightened eyes.   
The test subject returned the gaze, momentarily dumbfounded. One eye looked reasonably human, except for the unnatural orange glow coming from the iris. The other one, half hidden under brown and orange strands of synthetic hair, was black, save for a dimly glowing orange dot. The skin on his cheek had ripped all the way from the damaged eye to the jaw, roughly stitched together with what had to be screws of some sort. A cut right over the bridge of his nose looked glued or even melted shut. The material had turned a strange reddish color, but not blood. That would be too messy to be any good. Despite all that, he looked too damn human. Too much like a child, lost in this technological nightmare. They fought to shake the notion off. Thinking like that would get them killed. He couldn't be trusted.  
“Here's the deal, kid,” they hissed into his ear. “I get your robot ass out of here, in return you get me out of this hellhole altogether.”  
The android stared at them, then frantically shook his head. He tried to say something, but the hand on his mouth turned it into a series of muffled “mmmpf”.  
“If you cry out, I'll throw you into the next acid pool,” the test subject informed him. They waited for him to nod, then took their hand away, one eye already on their escape route.  
“Like hell!”, the android whispered. His voice was quivering. “You got me into this mess in the first place. She's gonna throw me into android hell if I help you again.”  
The test subject let their gaze wander over him, from the synthetic hair, over the damaged skin on his arms, paint-splattered chest to the long fall boots that looked just a little off and had already left some sore marks on his shins. “Is this any different?”  
The boy – no, android – pushed away from them. They let him. He'd probably fall on his face before he could make two steps anyway.   
Before he could make the first step, he lost his balance and sagged heavily against the container. “I'm doing my part to advance science. So yes, it is. You humans don't understand this.”  
The test subject fought the sudden urge to slap the android, at the risk of hurting their hand in the process, while a hysterical laugh bubbled in their sore throat. How brainwashed could you possibly be?  
“This is your testing track,” they said as calmly as they possibly could. Their breaths sounded unnaturally loud as they fought to control themselves. “You know exactly what will happen at the end. She doesn't seem like the kind who forgives treason.”  
The orange eyes – the functioning one at least - fixed onto them, this time in a human face, brows furrowed in anger. “I'm not a traitor!”  
The test subject didn't bother to argue. Instead, they said: “You know what I'd do with a lying, cheating rat? I'd run him through his own tests until he collapses, and then make him run some more, just for good measure, before I scrap him as slowly as possible.”  
Their former testing associate stared at them, his glowing eye dimming until it looked dark brown.   
“T-That's not true,” he insisted. The android bit his lower lip before the trembling could become too obvious. It took him a while to come up with anything to say, while the test subject just watched him expectantly. “I'm in a very important position. We never tested these new androids before, because... because they're so new. They're much better than the old ones and I'm the first one to test them. That's important.”   
The test subject shook their head and clenched their hands into fists as hard as they could. Kicking him until he finally got some common sense into his head didn't seem like such a bad idea.  
“You can barely stand. And look at that.” They snapped their fingers against his badly repaired cheek. The android flinched, lost his grip on the container, and unceremoniously slid to the ground. He didn't catch his fall, or adjust his position after that. He just sat there, looking like the pathetic little heap of machinery he was.  
“ **I know you're probably quite tired by now** ,” GLaDOS's voice echoed from the speakers. “ **These androids are just no good to use with someone who's too incompetent to handle energy saving. Really, I'd have thought if they made advanced versions of themselves, they'd actually make them better looking. But I guess you'll always be stuck with your unfortunate genetics, even now.** ”  
The test subject hunkered down in front of the android and grabbed him by the chin, staring straight into the mechanical eyes. “Does that sound like someone who will spare you? Your friends risked their lives to save me, just so I could get you out of here. I get why you didn't feel loyal to me, but at least be upright enough to stand to _them_.”  
He wanted to say something but they cut him off. “If you say science one more time, I'll freaking snap your neck. Now listen closely.”   
They couldn't go around calling him testing associate or simply core forever. It made them no better than this inhuman machine that had erased their name the moment they entered. Names were powerful. They carried more than their singular meaning, especially when you had nothing else left.  
“Nigel,” they said. “Don't be an idiot, I know you're smarter than this. You bring me to the surface, and then you can go back to living with your friends. Simple as that.”  
“I was made to run tests,” he said. There was no defiance to the words, it was just a statement. “If I go, my purpose just vanishes. I can't.”  
The test subject let go of him and the android sagged back against the container. Time was running short. They should have been out of here ages ago. The Central Core would get suspicious the longer they stayed. “And besides,” Nigel muttered. “I won't get very far either way.”  
“ **Don't you want your Citranium Cake? These androids are modeled to be as close to the humans as possible. I wouldn't know why, but maybe you'll enjoy it. Have nice meal and drink.** ” She barely paused before continuing: “ **Humans are weak and pathetic. Just like you. You're probably lying there, thinking I would wait forever.** ”  
The test subject stared at the heap of robot that looked far too human, and then went to gather up the Paint Gun. At least they had that now.  
When they turned around, the android was trying to get to his feet again. His gloved hands kept slipping on the smooth steel, and once he got a grip, he couldn't hold on long enough to get his legs under him. He collapsed, for the umpteenth time, and the test subject thought to see something translucent and shiny drip down from his face to the paint-splattered shirt.  
“Battery status... 43%... I don't get it,” he muttered. “Why would you built something that has to rest? That makes it useless half of the time.” He looked up at the test subject. Was that an attempt at smiling? They frowned at him.   
“You got the Paint Gun,” he said. “Nice. Now go, Fran knows the way out. She's a bit neurotic, but I'm sure you can convince her. Somehow.”  
The test subject didn't move. So this whole computer thing had taken off after all. Aperture always had a knack for crazy technology. There had to be a way GLaDOS was accessing the android body, to punish him like she did at the beginning of the test. Well, they would have to worry about that later.  
Taking the apron had been a good idea after all. It was the closest they could get to belt for stashing the Paint Gun. They grabbed the android under his arms and lifted him up, this time consciously taking in the small details their senses picked up. Save for some paint splatters, the shirt was dry. There was no trace of sweat, but they could feel a current of air accompanied by a low vibration that got stronger close to his waist. Even a human with this physique would have been a lightweight, and not human as he was, the boy – Nigel, they reminded themselves - barely weighed sixty pounds, already counting the boots.   
The test subject swung him over their shoulder, wrapping one arm around his legs. Considering he was made of metal, he didn't feel much different than all those chronically thin teenagers who only consisted of bones and skin and weird ideas about life. The skin in particular felt eerily human, except where it was damaged, and the lack of the natural moisture that people never noticed until it was gone.   
“W-What are you doing?”, Nigel asked, alarmed, and at least thirty seconds delayed.   
“Shut up.” They walked over to the hole the panels had left. Ladder. That was a problem.  
“ **There seems to be a problem** ,” GLaDOS announced. “ **I'll be right back. By then you should have reached the exit. You will not like what happens if you didn't.** ”  
Was that Fran's diversion? Or was the Central Core just playing tricks on them?   
“H-hey, you know, I'm sorry about calling you names and everything in the past. Just put me down, uh, test subject....”  
It was risky. Hell, it was probably insane. But which of their plans hadn't been?  
“My name's Jamie. I think.” They rounded the corner and began to run, half expecting the cruel female voice to laugh at them for falling for such an obvious trap. It didn't happen.   
They leaped off the platform and into the mist. Hopefully, the Central Core hadn't bothered replacing the broken panels, or this would become a very rough ride.


	6. Back in the mud

Hopefully, the Central Core hadn't bothered replacing the broken panels, or this would become a very rough ride.   
She hadn't. One of Nigel's boots brushed past the framework, almost sending them into an uncontrollable spiral, but they stabilized again and rushed through, and through the next, and the next. Things came full circle when they landed on the platform down in the salt mines, surrounded by howling winds and muddy brown water.   
The additional weight carried too much momentum for their injured shoulder. They suppressed a groan of pain and couldn't help but let the android slip to the ground. The impact was as undramatic as the first.   
“Ow,” he said, without much emphasize. “Do humans always drop things? Is that some unwritten rule?”  
They moved their shoulder, easing the tension. It still hurt, but the oncoming cramp ebbed off again. Step one had, by some miracle, worked. Step two was fairly clear, but not as easy to exercise. They couldn't carry him around like that forever, he was too heavy for that. Now that he actually had legs, as he had requested, he could as well use them.   
“How do we get somewhere She has no access to?”  
“You just had to make this worse,” the android stated. He struggled to get up, and almost fell off the platform in the process. “There's a maintenance door behind a panel in the last corridor. ...Wait, I'm not in my real body. Scratch that. If we get to the portal test chambers there are plenty of hidden passages.“  
They scanned the test chamber, trying to remember how to solve it. “I can't carry you around for much longer. Any place off camera will be enough for now.” They bent down and grabbed his arm, helping him to his feet.   
“Uh, thanks,” he muttered. “Well... there's a shaft leading down to the core belt, in the test chamber before this one.”  
The test subject nodded and wanted to drag him in the direction of the entrance. The android couldn't put up much of a fight, but it was enough to stop them. “Um, you see, I'm not exactly popular... and, y'know, a lot of cores have been... they got in trouble. Because of me. H-hey, She would have killed me! I couldn't do anything about it!” The test subject glared at him. Not that it was a big surprise. But if there were more cores, that meant they could maybe find someone else to lead them out. Somebody who was more reliable.  
“T-They wouldn't be happy to see me, I'm trying to say, a-and there's nothing interesting down there. We actually get further away from the surface. Just some old files, really boring stuff.”  
Files? The test subject smirked at the android and picked him up again, this time bridal style. It was more straining, long-term, but at least the weight was split up on both shoulders.   
Nigel sighed, but didn't say anything. Maybe he was just too tired to get really nervous just yet.  
The test subject sprinted over the trail of propulsion gel, gathering speed and then sailing over to the next platform.   
“Um, the Paint Gun isn't exactly in a good place right now,” the android complained. He twitched a little, but didn't manage to move a whole lot. “I can hold it, if you want.”  
The test subject glared at him, until they examined the position they were in and had to admit he was right. He might be a robot, but apparently he felt the same way towards getting touched in certain places. They almost wanted to ignore it, just because he didn't deserve better, but the oncoming encounter with his colleagues was punishment enough for now. It was a complicated and unnecessarily difficult ballet, not made easier by Nigel's complete lack of even the slightest attempt at helping them. Eventually, they had him firmly in their grasp again and the android could wrap his arms around the gun. He even rested his head on their shoulder.  
“Don't think you're getting anywhere with that,” the test subject snapped and purposefully ignored the hurt look the android managed to display. He was clever enough not to push it, and kept quiet.   
Back in the corridor, the big monitors had switched back to the colorful error screen.   
“I always thought those skulls were a bit dramatic, don't you think?”, Nigel commented. “Like, you don't want people to know it's getting dangerous, right? The door's over on the right.” It was indeed, only hidden by the framework and those so-called fiberglass plates. There was a keypad holding it closed. The hinges didn't look like they could be kicked in.  
“D-Do we really have to go down there? You're probably hoping for somebody else who can lead you out, but at least let me go before. I swear I won't sell you out this time.” The adolescent face still carried some soft lines of a child, and even the damage to his face didn't have a big effect on his puppy eyes. Whoever had programmed him, they had known how to manipulate people, especially those with an unhealthy protective urge. The test subject dug their fingers into his side and leg until the android winced and dropped the act. “I was just asking! The others won't be happy to see me, that's for sure... but I guess leaving me to my fate is what you humans are good at.”  
They almost dropped him right then and there, but found comfort in the notion that they still had time to throw him into the next crusher once he had fulfilled his purpose. As long as he didn't spew any more hypocrisy, that was.   
The test subject nodded at the door. Nigel stared at it, extended his hand, and dropped it again. “Wait a minute. Password... Um.” The artificial muscles moved fluently, save for some tiny glitches, sending his face through a variety of emotions: Deep thought, confusion, annoyance, helplessness, and eventually settling for nervousness. “Um... I don't have access to the testing protocols in this body...” He saw the look on their face and elaborated: “I-It's not my fault, I swear! It's just, the protocols and all passwords are in the main system, not on my hardware, and even if it was, She wouldn't have converted it-” He broke off and blinked at a spot somewhere over the test subject's head. “-over,” he finished the sentence. “Oh. Looks like She did. That's weird.”  
He typed in a code and the door opened with a click. Another dim room with a variety of machines, stomping elephant's feet and toxic pools. Lovely.  
On the positive side, there was no way they could get lost, and their destination was even listed on various rusted signs on the walls. They walked through rooms with machinery and corridors, sometimes having to squeeze through panels. They passed several of the colorful artworks, cryptic messages, torn-out papers from magazines taped to the walls, even mathematical equations, all mixed together. A cube with a heart and angel wings appeared several times, and they remembered it from drawings they had seen earlier as well. Whoever had made these couldn't have been a stone's throw away from the very edge of sanity, but it was the only truly human signs they had seen in their time down here. All these machines, even the offices, were impersonal and cold. The raw emotion of the drawings, the desperation and fleeting hope, it was almost calming.   
They walked for a long time until their arms got tired and they looked around for a place to rest for a few minutes. Their involuntary companion had been suspiciously quiet for a long time now. Could he possibly use this “Bluetooth” to contact GLaDOS again? It would help if they had any idea what it was, but the name only spawned some ridiculous mental images. They spied a chair and were about to drop the android next to it. That little fall couldn't possibly damage him, after all. But when their gaze fell down on the body in their arms, they hesitated.  
He was sleeping.   
It wasn't like the energy saving mode he had entered back in the office, or at least they thought it wasn't. He lay perfectly still, the Paint Gun cradled in his arms, head rested against the test subject's shoulder. Maybe it was just his human looks that confused them again. No human would be so still, even in deep sleep. It took them several seconds to notice the tiny movements of his chest, an even, almost inconceivable rhythm.  
The test subject laid him down on the floor, careful even while their arms protested after staying in the same position for so long. The boy rolled on his side, drawing his legs in until he lay curled up into a ball, the Paint Gun serving as a center.   
Why in all hell would somebody build an android looking like a child?  
The test subject sat down on the chair and rubbed their face. They might not be able to remember much of their past, but their flaws were becoming quite obvious by now. Which meant they had to find a way to counter them before GLaDOS or anyone else could exploit their weakness.   
They closed their eyes and concentrated on their breathing. In, out, deep and rhythmic. The environment didn't matter right now. They had to take care of their body, or otherwise they would never survive this. At thirty, their head felt clearer, at sixty, their muscles had stopped burning and twitching. They counted to one hundred before opening their eyes again.  
Nigel let out a breath that almost counted as a sigh, adjusted his position, and then went still again. It was just the random activity of a sleeper, without a purpose, and far too natural to be an act. The test subject slipped from the chair to the floor and began to examine the android. Now that he was finally lying still, and they were in a safe place – at least temporarily – they had a few minutes to marvel at the technology that had managed to create a robot so natural-looking it was hard to spot.  
They would have to stitch those tears up eventually, and not as ugly as some of the repair already done. They let their gaze wander over the robot. The core had had a port at the back, so where was it now? They swatted away their immature thoughts like they were annoying flies, their eyes already catching sight of a round port just below the hairline on his neck.   
Without all the damage, he might as well pass as human and that unsettled them more than it should. There had to be something that technology couldn't replicate, right?  
There were tiny paint drops in the dark brown strands, but otherwise it looked far too clean after hours of testing. The test subject ran their fingers through the android's hair. It was cropped short in the neck and a bit longer on top, the front forming a fringe that covered the right side of his face. It looked exceptionally real, but unlike the artificial skin, it couldn't imitate the true texture of a human's body. It felt more like a stuffed animal, warmed up by the heat the robot gave off.  
They drew back their hand as if he was a hot oven. What the hell were they doing? Oh yes, Aperture had known exactly what they were doing when they built this. Tiny and helpless as he might look, he had tried to kill them once without a warning, and sold them out to the Central Core several times after that. Looks were deceiving, and they would be an idiot to fall for it. Even a mass murderer could look innocent in sleep after all.  
That was enough rest for now. They couldn't sit around forever.   
Their legs decided they had an entirely different opinion on the matter. They slumped down on the chair, almost making it tip over. It took what felt like ages until they had their body under control again. Now that was just grand, wasn't it?   
They sighed and waited until their legs stopped stinging with a million needle pricks and they could actually feel their feet set down on the floor again. The spinning chair had given them an idea though. They had stopped consciously taking in their environment dozens of chambers ago, only looking out for the mysterious drawings and cameras that could give away their location. This was an office, right? There had to be facilities around, for one thing, and if they looked closely, maybe even something to eat. They weren't hungry yet, but a glass of water wouldn't do any harm, and they still had to plan ahead for who knew how long.  
They dug up a cable from one of the lockers and used it to tie the android's hands to the next heavy piece of furniture. He'd probably run off to tell his boss once he woke up and was back to full strength, hoping to get off better because he proved his loyalty again. The knot was hard to do and they could feel the wiring inside the cable breaking, but the insulation held. He wouldn't go anywhere for the time being.   
They considered taking the Paint Gun, but when they reached for it, the boy curled up, locking it between his legs and chest. He muttered something and went back to sleep. The test subject sighed and left the gun where it was. They could do without his constant babbling for a while and they needed him at full strength to lead them out.  
A brief search turned up a slightly moth-eaten, but still usable backpack, as well as toilets that were grown over by what looked like potato plants. They gathered some of the potatoes and stuffed them down their bag. Maybe they could cook them once they were outside, in case the next town was more than a day's walk away.   
The tap water was rusty at first, and even when it looked clean tasted faintly of metal, but it was better than nothing. They washed their face and arms, enjoying the cool it brought to their sweat-covered skin. After that, they systematically checked the doors down the corridor. It looked a lot like the one they had entered first, just to be caught by GLaDOS. They didn't allow for any panic to set in. They were several levels under that particular area, and everything in here was much older. The computers looked more like what they were used to, just smaller.   
If Aperture had just recycled the same layout over and over... they walked past all doors without so much as glancing at the label, and opened the last one on the right. Bingo. A cafeteria.   
They gathered as much supplies as they managed, piling them on a table and checking the cans meticulously for any damage. The picture of the fungus was still far too fresh in their mind. This area hadn't been hit by whatever caused the mayhem in the upper levels, and the cutlery was still in place. There even was a vending machine with a bright yellow and orange Aperture logo with some applications, bubbles and two small leaves.   
The lock on the Citranium machine was relatively new and would withstand any attempts at a break-in. The test subject didn't waste their strength on such things. Instead, they got the tools they had gathered in the workshop upstairs, and began to open the lock bit by bit.  
While they worked, their thoughts were solely concentrated on what they did, carefully sliding the bolts back and forth, until the lock gave a click and landed in their hand. They put it in their pocket for further use, along with the tool. It was always handy to have some equipment ready. After that, they didn't have the blessing of a purpose that required their attention anymore, and their thoughts wandered to the next topic at hand on the spot.  
They stared at the vending machine, running a hand though their hair in thought. Where had they learned to pick locks? It was a useful skill, sure, but it also wasn't something everyone could do. They were good at climbing, running, jumping, and now picking locks? Had they been a burglar in their former life? They had thought to be better than that, but then again, what did a burglar feel like? Maybe it had been for a good reason.  
They shoved the thoguht back to where it came from. It was all just speculation anyway.  
They opened the vending machine. Icy air punched them in the face and made goosebumps break out on their body. They picked out one of the cans and opened it. It sizzled, like any decent soda would. The test subject closed the vending machine again, just so they wouldn't freeze to death if they stayed here longer, and poured the soda into a glass they picked from the shelves. It looked pretty much like any soda.   
They sniffed it and recoiled. The scent was so strong it made their nose tingle. It got better after a few seconds and they dared to take a sip. The Citranium was overbearingly sweet and lemony, and they couldn't help but wonder just what kind of chemicals had been poured into this to make it taste like it did. It was also the only beverage around, so they packed two cans as well, even though they would have to be close to death to try that again.  
With a backpack full of supplies, they headed back to the office. Time to end their guide's nap and get moving again.  
They turned into the room and froze.  
The cable was lying on the floor in a chaotic heap. Feeling their innards cramp, they scanned the surroundings. Computers, a table, the chair. Nothing else. The room was empty.  
“Well shit.” They hammered their hand against the door frame in frustration, restricting their strength to not hurt themselves at the last moment. How could they have been so stupid? They were dealing with a robot. He could just have snapped the wire, and even though it didn't look broken, something that petty wouldn't have stopped him.  
They rubbed their forehead and looked around again, just to be sure. No place to hide in here. Not that it would have been necessary, with the door standing wide open. So much for their plan to get down to the core belt. GLaDOS would be there before they were.   
Time for a new plan. Maybe they should go back to Brooke and Fran? According to the Economy Core, Nigel wouldn't rat them out, for all it was worth. That left only the obvious problem, the one that had controlled their every action so far: They had no idea where they were. The facility was gigantic, and the panels could potentially move whole chambers, from what they had seen. They remembered layouts and signs on the wall, even had a vague idea where some of the most important locations in the facility were. But many of these memories seemed to be wrong, not to mention they didn't even know why they knew such things.  
The only way back to their starting place was through the test chambers, and that meant they could as well throw themselves into an acid pool or the incinerator right away.   
Up to the surface then, maybe find Nigel's office and get some orientation, as had been their original plan.   
They spun at a loud bang, followed by a muffled curse. Convinced their ears must have been playing tricks on them, they followed the sounds, all the way down the corridor. Either they were going crazy, or this was a trap. They stopped in the door, dumbfounded.  
Nigel sat on the floor of the cafeteria, Paint Gun next to him, both hands occupied with the attempt at opening a Citranium can. Somehow, he had managed to make the whole content of the vending machine spill out. The racks were broken and he hadn't even bothered to put anything back, instead taking to the task of helping himself to a drink. Admittedly, opening cans was difficult with short nails, and it didn't help that his fine motor skills were either glitching out or just not built to be that precise, but it still looked like a six year old trying to draw a Van Gogh.   
He didn't look up, so the test subject assumed they hadn't been noticed. “How do people do that?”, he complained to nobody in particular. “Sweet science, this can't be so difficult. It's broken.”  
The test subject watched him struggle for a while, and couldn't help being amused at his increasing frustration. It still seemed like a miracle that he hadn't run off. There had to be a reason, and it couldn't be good for them.   
Eventually, they knocked on the door frame. The android's head shot up. He tried to smile, and failed.  
“Hi,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Found anything interesting?”  
The test subject sat down across from him and took off the backpack. Hauling this around wouldn't be fun, that was for sure. Nigel nodded, as if he had expected that. “So you opened the vending machine? Okay, nice. That's technically a break-in, and against the rules, but... I guess we're breaking them anyway, so it doesn't matter.” His eyes – the intact one – flicked to the side for just a second, creating the fleeting impression of sadness, until he went back to mistreating the poor, innocent Citranium can. He had managed to get out of a knot the best boy scout couldn't do, but couldn't get a can open? It looked far too pathetic to be an act. Even Nigel was too proud to humiliate himself like that.  
“I guess these androids don't need that much resting time after all. Thanks science! ...But why did I see stuff that wasn't there while I was sleeping?” The test subject looked at him, signaling their attention. The android shot them a brief glance and then continued: “I saw a dog. It was really soft, and had long fur in black and brown and white. I think we were playing. That's what people do with dogs, right? They always do in these old films we got in the library.”  
The test subject stared at him, the puzzle pieces clicking together. No. This wasn't possible. Not even Aperture could pull off something crazy like this. GLaDOS's comment had just been a fleeting insult. Their mind was overreacting from all the stress.  
They found Nigel looking at them with a quizzical expression and nodded in confirmation. Family dogs were for playing. Everything else...  
They finally got tired of watching the android fail to open a simple can and snatched it from his fingers. “Hey!”, he protested and tried to grab it again. They held it out of his reach until they had opened it at the first try and handed it back. “Oh,” he mumbled. For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to refuse out of hurt pride, but then he took it anyway. “Um. Thanks.”  
The orange eyes blazed up after the first sip. “This... this isn't like the simulation. That's way better! I never thought-” He didn't finish the sentence for the sake of emptying the can. Some of it didn't exactly go where it should, but he seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.  
The test subject shook their head, halfway between disbelief and amusement. Well, if they were not going anywhere, a short meal probably wouldn't do any harm. The test subject sat down and opened the backpack to pick one of the cans. They poured the contents – apple pie filling – into a bowl before deciding it looked good enough. Before they could eat the first spoon they met orange eyes that followed their every movement with an equal amount of curiosity and suspicion. The android had gotten rid of the empty can and drawn his legs to his chest, wrapping both arms around them.   
It had been one thing being watched while in the test chambers, but this was a completely different kind of unnerving. The filling tasted good, if a bit stale. It was certainly better than everything they could remember since they woke up. After only a few bites, they set the spoon down and gave the android a level look. “What?”  
“I don't feel so good. Like... hollow, you know, but that can't be because I'm certainly not. There the fans and hardware and stuff. Is that normal? It was there before, when I was testing, but now it's really bad and I don't think that's good.” Before he had even finished speaking, there was a growl from his general direction. The android curled up even more. “I feel like it's linked to what you got there. I don't understand.”  
The test subject stared at him. _You have got to be **fucking** kidding me._  
Their confusion turned into an exasperated kind of annoyance at once. Oh great! They should ditch him and get a new guide at once. They didn't have the time to teach this... this kid how to be human. He wasn't exactly good at it, seeing how he couldn't even get his hands to move as they should. How had he survived the test chambers at all?  
“...It is, isn't it? It's this human thing, right?” He drooped when they nodded, looking all the more like a beaten puppy. “Oh no...”  
The test subject handed him the bowl and the spoon. The android stared at it for a moment, his face full of doubt, but took it anyway. He tasted the apple pie. Judging from his somewhat clumsy movements, he was just mimicking what he had seen the test subject do.   
“I... guess I can live with that,” he said after a moment, still not convinced.  
The test subject fought the urge to either slap the android or themselves, and settled for crossing their legs and folding their hands.   
“Listen up, kid. Nigel. Listen very closely. We're in this together, so here's the 101 of being human.” He looked at them apprehensively while somehow getting the apple pie down without spilling anything.   
They began to list everything they could think of, from basic stuff like food and drink, clothes, to hygiene and some social rules they weren't sure even still applied.   
Turned out that Nigel already knew most of it, and was not shy to tell them, but it took him quite a while to realize that all of it had turned from a theoretical construct to actions he had to take from now on. The longer they talked, the more a look of horror began to creep on his face. The only questions he asked went along the lines of “Are you sure I gotta do that?” and were immediately shot down. He had forgotten about the food after the first three minutes, and set the bowl down with a dubious look shortly after.  
The test subject paused, went over their mental checklist again, and decided that should be everything for now. They couldn't think of anything else that might interfere with their escape for now.   
Nigel stared at them with that same horrified expression for almost a minute, until he exclaimed: “Who made up that concept?!” He rubbed his eyes, wincing when he touched the tear on his cheek, and drew his legs closer to rest his head on his knees. It didn't impede his volume. “I mean, that's ridiculous! If you made a robot, then wouldn't you make it better than a human? All those... businesses, that all takes up time. ...And it's awful.”  
He glared at them, shooting into an upright position, and jabbed a finger at them. “That's your fault! You got me into this! Without you, I wouldn't even be in this body, I'd just be back in my testing track and go about my work and on my free day I'd have time to listen to music and visit Fran and watch some movies and play with my Sheltie. And now I'm here, and the boss is-” His tirade broke off. The test subject blinked at him, a little taken aback by the outburst, pondering whether they should teach him that they wouldn't tolerate this kind of behavior or treat it as a justified reaction to stress.   
Nigel on the other hand looked confused enough as it was. “Did I just say something about a dog?”   
They frowned and shook their head. The android didn't see it. He was staring at his paint-splattered Long Fall Boots. “We don't even have animals in here,” he muttered. “I mean, except for the rats and mice and insects. A fox got in here once, and fell into an acid pool. And a few rabbits.” He frowned. “I do know what a dog looks like. I think. We got records of that. From the old animal testing facility. I look through that old stuff sometimes when I get bored. The boss says we should file everything away even if it isn't needed anymore.”  
Then their record wouldn't be gone either. Good.   
Nigel scratched his neck, without an apparent reason. “The dog I saw when I was sleeping... I think that was a Sheltie.” His orange eyes flared up, both of them this time. He stared at them for a few seconds. “Yeah, it must be. Everything fits together. He was mine. But then-” His glowing eyes flickered like dying light bulbs and went dull. An invisible hand seemed to squeeze the android and he collapsed, pressing both hands to his temples. “What- What's going on? Argh... That hurts!” His fans kicked up, their almost inaudible humming suddenly the angry buzzing of a disturbed hornet's nest. His artificial breathing turned into labored coughs in the matter of seconds. The test subject leaped to their feet, but didn't dare to come closer. His core had been able to give out electrical shocks. What about this one?   
“I- I might just have blown a circuit. B-But why?” He let out a mechanical whimper that sounded like a rusty door closing. The test subject waited.   
Twenty. Forty.   
He almost kicked them in what seemed to be a desperate struggle against an invisible opponent. “No- No- I don't want to, you can't do that, I didn't agree to this! Let me go!”  
Sixty. Seventy-two. The spasm broke off as suddenly as it had come, leaving him limp and panting in a sorrowful heap. The fans continued whirring frantically for a while longer, then returned to their normal activity, and Nigel managed to sit up. He stared up at them, fear and uncertainty fighting for dominance. He rubbed his face, brushing the ruffled fringe back from his forehead for a moment.   
“Thanks for the help,” he said sourly. “Let's talk about something else. Like how we get back my real body.”  
The test subject frowned. What was that supposed to mean?   
The android motioned down his scrawny limbs, sprinkled with orange and blue gel. “This might seem great to you, with me having legs and so on, but I'd rather get back into my core. You made Her put me in here, at least you could help me get my unit back.” He paused, and insecurity flickered over his features. “Well... the boss has it. I think. That could be kind of difficult. But it's okay. There are cores in here that are blank. Just convert me over there, and we're good.” Another pause. “Although... do we? I thought we did. But they're all broken. And the maintenance core is gone for good. This... could be more difficult than expected.”   
The test subject leaned forward and grabbed his chin to keep him from avoiding their gaze. Oh, he was good at playing the innocent card, that much was sure. His voice and now body matched that veil perfectly.   
“You bring me out. I let you go your own way. End of story. I already risked my ass to get you out of that test chamber.”  
“Well, I didn't ask you to!”, Nigel shot back. He slapped away their hand. It was only a casual gesture, but the test subject's wrist snapped back with a burst of pain. They clutched it to their stomach instinctively. For a moment, they panicked. A broken wrist could halt their escape even more. But after the first shock it moved without much of a strain, although the skin was still tender to the touch.   
The test subject got up. They didn't have time to deal with this rebellious teenager bullshit. Why had they even bothered? Personality or not, the cores were no more than a program running in a machine. Reason didn't apply to this, neither did arguing or bargaining. It was that simple.  
They strapped on the backpack, fastened the Paint Gun to their hip and dragged the android to the next pillar in the middle of the room. He didn't even have time to get up. There was no rope around, but they had spotted a roll of duct tape on a counter and grabbed it on the way.   
“What are you doing? Let go!”  
“Taking precautions. She'll find you eventually, and then you can tell Her all about how I kidnapped you twice. If She listens long enough. Maybe She can even explain how a robot can dream and why you know so much about dogs without ever coming in touch with them or what that outburst was just now.”  
Whatever strength the android had, Nigel apparently didn't know how to use it, and the test subject could hold him down with ease, despite his best efforts.  
“N-No, wait, wait, I didn't mean it like that!”, he protested. They wrapped the duct tape around his arms and pulled them around the pillar. If he couldn't see his hands, it would become considerably harder for him to open anything, hopefully. If they encountered Fran or Brooke, they could send them to get him. By the time that happened the test subject would be in the sun again if everything went well.  
“Storm, please! If She finds me now, I'm as good as dead.” The test subject stopped mid-motion. Nigel used the moment of hesitation to slip out of their grasp and get to his feet, bringing a table between them, his back to the door, eyes nervously scrutinizing them for any movement. “I promised to help you, didn't I? I will. But I need your help to get my core back. Let's be honest, I'm not good enough to do that on my own. I was made to supervise tests, not do them myself.“  
The test subject stared at him. His words rushed past them without their meaning sinking into their brain. “What did you call me?”  
Nigel hesitated. “Oh, that... I, uh, I can call you Jamie, if you want. Or Rene, whatever you prefer.”   
“What?”  
He closed his eyes for a moment, forehead furrowing in concentration. “Uh... It's in your profile. Jamie Rene Stormont, called Storm. There wasn't even a space for nicknames, but you added it anyways. I like that, by the way.”  
“What else do you know?”   
Nigel thought about it for so long the test subject just wanted to go over and shake him until he spilled everything. There was an electrical current running through their system, their muscles vibrating with tension. They weren't a nameless test subject. They were a person, no matter what Aperture wanted to make of them. A person with a name. Nobody would take that away again.  
“You were born May 22nd, 1948, and went into hibernation in... 1983. I don't think they recorded the exact date, we'd have to go to your stasis chamber for that. So.. technically you're 35. Hm. Would have thought you were older.” His eyes widened. “Uh- uh, I mean, I mean, you're looking good, that's not what I meant!”, he corrected himself immediately. “You are older, actually, so that's not a bad thing. See, the stasis doesn't halt aging completely.”  
Storm managed to listen to his panicked excuses for a few more seconds until they couldn't hold it in anymore. They burst out laughing, so loud their throat protested. In this nightmare, this insane hellhole of a company run by some megalomaniac computer, their little testing associate, who had tried to kill them several times directly or indirectly, was worried about offending them with their age. They laughed until they doubled over and their face hit the table, and kept laughing after that. It surged through them like a storm. The pun was so stupid it made them laugh even harder.   
“Oh- Oh no, oh science, are you alright?” Storm fully collapsed on the table, their face streaked with tears and their stomach aching, yet they couldn't stop. They felt hands on their shoulders, keeping them from just slipping to the floor. They weren't even uttering a sound anymore, just laboring to breathe while they were still screaming with laughter inside.  
“Hey, calm down, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be rude. You look great. For a human.”  
That only made them laugh harder. They leaned against the android's shoulder and just tried to breathe without bursting into uncontrollable giggles again, half of which were uncomfortably close to hysteria. This was nuts. Just nuts. They were stuck in this hellhole with the android equivalent of a fourteen-year old that just discovered how food and the less pleasant end of the digestive system worked, while a giant supercomputer tried to kill them both. It didn't get any more crazy than that, did it?  
It seemed to take an eternity until they felt capable of continuing and they even noticed that Nigel was holding them so they didn't just lie on the floor. But the breakdown had its good sides. They felt much better. Their constant short temper had dissipated, leaving only the adrenaline-filled natural caution that was healthy for this situation. They were still angry at their situation, and the “personality construct” by their side should better not expect easy forgiveness. But maybe their collaboration would become a bit more pleasant, now that they didn't feel like kicking him every time he ran that dumb mouth of his.  
Said personality construct looked down at them with wide eyes. “A-Are you better? What happened? You don't have any circuits that could malfunction. I think”, he stammered. Storm grinned and patted him on the cheek before getting up, wiping tears from their face. Their muscles ached when they stretched, especially their stomach, but it was a good kind of pain. For all they knew it was the first time in their life they had laughed so hard.  
They washed the bowl and spoons before putting them in the backpack. The android watched them with an expression constantly wavering between confusion, skepticism and worry. They nodded at the door, and waved him along. He got up and followed, as well as he could after stumbling the first few steps.   
“Oh, ouch, I must have sat on a wire or something,” he remarked. They didn't comment, but had to admit he wasn't exactly wrong in his anger at whatever God-status engineer that had designed this body. Why would you built a robot that was in no way better than a human? Where was the point in that?  
They walked in silence, through corridors, machine rooms and eventually giant caverns filled with catwalks, the walls filled with mechanical arms holding the panels to whatever test chamber. What they were even fixed to, they couldn't guess at.   
They stepped through a door and found themselves on a catwalk leading along a conveyor belt vanishing in the wall on the opposite side. They looked around seeing nothing interesting or dangerous, and wanted to go on, when they felt a hand on their arm. It was pulled back immediately, as if their skin was a hot stove.  
“Hey, um, test-, uh, I mean Storm, wait a moment. There's another way to the core belt. W-Well, actually, the central archive is in a room behind it, but we... we don't have to go through there. It... would be better if the others don't see me.” His eyes flickered over the belt slowly carrying scraps of metal to a hatch on the other side that vanished into darkness. There was a shell that must have belonged to a core once, but dark brown where the paint wasn't chipped away and with a pretty flower design around the now black optic. Nigel shuddered visibly and crossed his arms.   
“Why? We can get some repairs done.” Storm tapped his cheek, but not directly on the tear. He flinched anyway and almost slapped their hand away, but stopped himself in time. Considering the last time, that was better for both of them.   
“B-because... I already told you, they don't like me! I mean, if I don't talk they probably won't even recognize me, but... I guess I could pretend my voice modulators are broken. The maintenance core is gone, and there's nobody qualified to fix anything anymore. Except for Her of course. I get you're not really chatty, but I can't do the talking for us. Or, which is the much better solution, we take a little detour and go to the archives directly.”  
“Oh, honey, why would you want to avoid us?” Nigel almost jumped into Storm's arms at the sound. A core with an almost platinum shell and a pale yellow optic had lowered itself from the ceiling and stared at them. The optic was not a plain color, but diverted into rings, the inner ones paler than the rest. It wasn't the same terrible gold as GlaDOS's optic, but her voice had the same cutting edge, despite being more high-pitched.  
“The others can't wait to see you, Nigel.”  
The android cleared his throat and straightened up, without leaving his hiding place behind their back. “Hi, Sarah.” Storm blinked at him. Throughout all the tests, all the mayhem they had gotten through, not once had he sounded like this. His voice could have frozen boiling water.   
“Test- uh Storm, this is the Achievement Core. Sarah, that's my friend Storm the test subject.”  
The core chuckled, and the sound was the ugliest and meanest laugh they could remember ever hearing. “Friends? _You_? Face it, sweetie, nobody wants to be friends with you. But speaking of which, what happened to that Paranoia Core? How is she doing?”  
“She's the Economy Core,” Nigel snapped. “Fran is fine, thank you very much.”  
“Lovely. Then come along, everybody is already in place.” The Achievement Core slowly drove down her rail. Nigel hesitated, then followed in a firm stride. He didn't look back.  
“The news spread like wildfire, you know?”, the pale core chatted. She had an awful voice, the voice of somebody who would kick a puppy and then go on to gossip as if nothing had happened. There was no good emotion behind it, not even the determined cool of the Central Core. “Somebody to put into one of the Stratos androids. We were already making up a plan to get the poor bastard out... then we heard it was you and scrapped it. And you even found another test subject, isn't that exciting. Storm, it was? Don't worry, we'll get you out of here. You can forget about him. Surely a relief after all the betrayal. But don't be fooled, not everyone is like him.”  
They stepped through the door and were met by hundreds of eyes. It took Storm a little while to figure out that they weren't mixing things up. The room was filled with dozens of crisscrossing management rails and all of them were filled to capacity with cores. Some were plain silver, like Nigel, some painted like the shell they had seen on the conveyor belt, and the optics sparkled in all colors of the rainbow, some even had patterns in them.   
It got eerily quiet when they entered and Storm felt a shiver run down their back. They despised being the middle of attention, apparently.  
“Is that a sneaky little rat I see?, thought everyone,” an even, male voice came from somewhere in the room. “All eyes were set upon the core that had so deviously betrayed many of his comrades. He was an unfamiliar sight to them, in his new body, but could not pretend to be human. The traitor looked around anxiously, surely searching for a way to escape his miserable situation, but not finding one. His time was running out... as is mine, what is going on, oh not again!” The voice sped up to get the last sentences out.  
“Thanks Narrator Core, for the introduction,” someone else, this time a rougher man's voice, commented. He reminded Storm of someone, a voice they had heard somewhere.   
The cores stared at them for a long second, before they broke into scornful whispers. “Serves him right.” “You sure he's not gonna rat us out?” “How dumb is that test subject to trust him?” “What do we do now?”  
“How was your testing track, Nigel? Oh sorry, how was _failing_ your own testing track. Are you glad to have legs now? Feeling superior already?”, somebody shouted from the back.  
The android didn't react. His intact eye blazed almost yellow with whatever he felt, but he didn't answer, not the questions, not the insults. He just looked up to Storm and said: “I'll check out the archives. Let's hope She hasn't shut down my access.” He didn't get to make two steps, before several cores blocked his way.  
“You're not going anywhere,” a core with a green optic said. There was a southern slur to his words.  
“The chance of your immediate betrayal by telling GLaDOS our location is 102%,” a silver core with a pink optic added.  
“That's not even mathematically possible, Fact Core,” Nigel snapped. “And I'd be pretty stupid to call Her, considering She wants to kill me!”  
“Your programming requires full loyalty to Aperture,” the Fact Core buzzed. “It is not a matter of your stupidity. Which is at 89% as a matter of fact. GLaDOS wants to kill us all, but you will still call Her in the hope of getting spared. I have evidence. It happened before.”  
“Yeah, it did!”, a core from the crowd snapped. It was soon joined by many other voices, until they just blended into a cacophony that banged against Storm's eardrums until they couldn't hear their own thoughts anymore.  
“SHUT UP EVERYONE!” The voice wasn't nearly human, but the roar of a tiger. They had heard something like that on a stage, they remembered, though not where. It shook the whole room, but for some reason, it was still a recognizable tone, like it could be part of a melody. When the roar wore off, the cores had fallen silent. They hurried aside to create a path for an overhanging management rail. The core didn't look much different from them all, with a silver shell, and a white ring made of concentric lines intercepted with red serving as an optic. Next to him was a core painted a shimmering violet, the optic changing color with every movement.  
“What the hell is wrong with you?”, the silver core said. He had a deep voice that reminded them a little of a singer, melodic and powerful. “We don't have time for this.”  
They found Nigel staring at the violet core, and quickly avoiding its gaze when it looked at him.  
“We should be worried about getting the human out of here before She finds us. If you insist, we can kick Nigel out as well, but that's not our primary concern.”  
The green-eyed core drove up to the core and glared at him, face plates narrowed. “Since when did we make you our leader, Heavy Metal Core?”  
“When you were too stupid to get anything done, Adventure Core.”  
“And who decides that, huh?”, the Adventure Core snapped.  
The violet core rolled her optic and moved over to Nigel. “If you want something done, do it yourself.” She had a pearling voice, a bit deeper than the average woman's, carrying an unfamiliar accent that made her intonation go up and down in a strange, but pleasant melody. Their first guess was Scandinavian, but something about that didn't seem right. How they knew what a Scandinavian accent sounded like was a mystery in itself, but none that required a solution right now.  
“Hello Nigel. It's been a while.”  
He gulped and hastily tried to smooth his hopelessly ruffled appearance, before stuffing his hands inside the pockets of the jumpsuit. “H-Hi Marceline. Nice to see you.”   
The core shot a glance over at her arguing comrades. “You should think a core shouldn't even have testosterone,” she said wryly. “Anyway, why did you come here? Surely not to listen to what everyone holds against you.”  
He avoided her gaze, staring at the metal grid serving as the floor. “N-No. We're looking for the archives. Well, the test subject, uh Storm, is. I'm just kinda going along, because... I don't have a choice, do I?”  
“There's always a choice,” the core said thoughtfully. The management rail didn't allow her to examine him from all sides, but she did as much as she could while he squirmed under her gaze. His fans had kicked up again, buzzing for all they were worth. Storm wasn't sure if they should pity him or just be amused.   
“What do you plan to do, once you have escorted the human out?”  
Nigel shrugged his shoulders and rubbed a stitched up tear on his arm. “I don't know. Maybe I'll just go outside and look how long I can survive. The boss is hunting me, my job is gone, everyone else hates me... I don't really have anything to go back to.”  
The violet core – Marceline – tilted her optic a little. “Interesting.” She turned around and called out: “I'll accompany them to the archives and make sure they don't do anything stupid.”  
The room fell silent again, except for the occasional mechanical clicks and buzzes. Adventure Core and Heavy Metal Core ceased their argument at once.  
“Sure, 'cause you can do so much against two of them. Sorry lady, no offense, but I don't think you're capable of that,” Adventure Core said. Marceline gave a snort, but didn't bother to comment.  
“Neither of us have any arms and legs. This applies to you, me, the Symphony Core and everyone in here, save for the test subject and... him,” Fact Core chimed in again.   
The Achievement Core moved in front of the crowd again. “My calculations show that the best way to get the test subject out of here as safe as possible is to use him as bait for Her. Once She's busy, he has to hold up for a little while so we can get the human out. Think about it. It's a win-win situation.”  
The crowd broke into murmurs and then into shouts. “Let's do that!” “What are we waiting for?” “Let's get rid of the traitor!”  
Nigel stared at them, eyes wide, and took a step back. The management rails buzzed as several cores blocked his escape route, staring at him with their face plates narrowed. Even if he had managed to run with the android shaking like in an earthquake, he couldn't have.  
“I didn't have a choice! She... She would have... I couldn't...” His meek defense was drowned out by the noise.  
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” The Heavy Metal Core spun to make his voice reach even the tiniest corner, even though it wouldn't have been necessary at this volume. The cores fell silent.  
“This isn't how we treat each other. Traitor, or whatever you want to call him, he's one of us.”  
“You're the one to say, Henry!”, someone shouted. “Just because he granted you some off-hand permissions on his testing track!”  
Heavy Metal Core – who was called Henry, apparently – let out an annoyed growl. “This isn't the point. We gotta worry about getting the human out and the longer we're standing around throwing accusations, the easier She'll find us. If you don't have anything useful to say, don't say anything.”  
Both the Achievement Core and the Fact Core were about to speak up, but for once Henry and the Adventure Core thought the same and cut them off.  
“The human wants access to the archive. Fine. We can't let them go alone though.”  
“I'm coming with them.” Everyone turned as a core with a rainbow-colored optic emerged from the crowd. He had a smooth, almost caressing voice. Not even in the creepy sort of way, but what a friend would sound like who would stay with you when you cried, no matter if it was a rainy street at two am, or a sunny park at noon.   
“What do you want to do, paint them pink with your affection?” The crowd broke into somewhat forced laughter. The Rainbow Core looked at them and if he could have, he might have lifted one eyebrow. As it was, he just wiggled his handle once and moved over to Storm.   
“Don't listen to them. Unless they say you look marvelous, which you certainly do. You can call me Mauricio.”  
Storm nodded, looking them over. If Nigel really did try anything, how were they supposed to stop him? Storm was the only one physically capable of doing so, unless they tried to knock him out with a tackle. Given that cores felt pain like a human, that seemed rather unlikely.  
Despite the mockery, the cores moved out of the way when Mauricio guided them along. The eyes followed them, whispering quietly among each other, occasionally throwing an insult or accusation.  
“I've got a plan,” they heard the Achievement Core say, open glee in her voice. Nigel cringed and sped up his pace. If the cores could have spat at him, they might just have. Nigel seemed to shrink with every step he had to bear their stares, not daring to meet them even once.  
“At least I wasn't useless,” he muttered, just before they stepped into the next room. The following outrage was cut off when the door shut behind them.


	7. Person of Interest

“You really should learn what to say aloud,” Mauricio commented, open amusement in his voice.  
“Well it's true!”, Nigel snapped. “I'm not sure what you have been planning all this time, but at least I'm not crazy enough to listen to Sarah! Yeah, sure, she's designed to achieve things, but did you ever consider why she was scrapped? I sure am not eager to die >for the greater good<.” His quotations marks turned out to be unrecognizable wild gestures, before he stomped past the Rainbow Core. Marceline shook herself and sped up as well, keeping up with him.  
Mauricio stayed where he was, adjusting his pace to Storm's. “I wonder,” he said. He didn't specify what he wondered about. His rainbow-colored optic wandered over the run-down facility. Old machines that somehow still ran, broken-down panels leading to more maintenance shafts and other rooms that had collapsed over time. There was nothing to see. They walked on in silence.  
Eventually, Mauricio asked: “What information are you looking for?”  
“Anything about me. And about 1983.”  
The Rainbow Core gave a thoughtful noise. “Am I correct that you were just woken from your stasis?” They nodded. “It must be strange, waking up to a foreign world like this.”  
It certainly was, especially considering all this technology they didn't understand, but they had already felt like this back when they came to Aperture. Wait, that was new. They made a mental note of the new information, but their memory didn't spit out any clear event or context after this thought. “What year is it?”  
“Oh, we don't know that. The last time we could be certain it was 2007, before She stopped using dates. It upset the test subjects too much. Nobody knows how long ago that was. We heard something terrible happened out there.”  
Two. Thousand. Seven.   
Mauricio read their expression correctly and his tone turned gentle. “Maybe I should learn what to say aloud as well. I'm sorry, this must be a shock.”  
Storm stared at the ground in front of their feet while they walked and locked their fingers securely around the straps of the backpack. They didn't want anyone to see them shaking.   
2007, and that had been who knew how long ago. They had been in stasis for at least a quarter century. This was nuts. They shouldn't be... they shouldn't be able to walk around. Muscles atrophied over time. They should be retirement age now, maybe with grandchildren or a pet or _something_. Not down here. It wasn't natural.   
“Oh dear, I'm so sorry, I knew I shouldn't have said anything.” Mauricio watched them, his rainbow optic illuminating their features. “You look like you need a hug, sweetheart. I wish I could help out, but unfortunately that's not possible.”  
They looked up and smiled at him, dull as it was, and hugged the sphere anyway. It was cool and hard and not exactly the best comfort, but it was something. Mauricio chuckled. It was a low, pleasant sound that vibrated in their arms. “Sometimes I wish I had a human body again.”  
They let go immediately and stared at the core. “What?” The core returned the gaze, his colorful optic painting beautiful patterns over their skin. He didn't answer, but looked fairly confused, if a core even could look confused. They felt like they were interpreting far too much into the way these machines moved.   
“You were a human once?”, they asked.   
The Rainbow Core blinked his face plates and kept the upper one down after that, almost like a frown. “Not that I know,” he answered. “How did you get that idea?”  
“You just said-” They broke off.   
“I'm afraid I don't follow,” Mauricio said apologetically. They waved it off and sped up their pace. This hadn't been a glitch or their imagination. The Rainbow Core knew something. Or maybe he didn't and it had slipped out, like Nigel's dream about the dog or the seizure or their own occasional snippets of misplaced memories. Either way, the only real confirmation for their theory would be in the archives. They had been standing around here for far too long. Nigel and Marceline had vanished from sight during their conversation.   
They were waiting in front of a door when Storm rounded the corner. Nothing in the room indicated the door was special in any way, it looked just like everything else, and was shut tight.  
“Anyone know the passkey? Because I don't,” Nigel announced immediately. Marceline nodded in confirmation.   
“We should have thought of that”, Marceline said. “Rainbow, you think you can go back and ask the others? Somebody has to know the code.”  
“No need to, my dear.” Mauricio moved over to the door. A small hatch on his side opened and revealed a spindly mechanical arm that went straight to the task of picking the lock. He removed the cover of the keypad, snapped a few wires, reconnected them and the locks clicked.  
Storm wasn't the only one staring when the Rainbow Core turned around. He looked them over and let out one of those sweet, noncommittal chuckles. “I'm not just there to look pretty, my darlings, even if it may seem like that.” His voice was almost a feline purr, like a panther. “But maybe that should stay a matter between the four of us, don't you think?”  
“S-Sure...”, Marceline agreed. Even Nigel nodded hastily when the multicolored optic focused on him. Storm shrugged their shoulders. This business was between the cores. They'd be out of this place soon anyway.  
“Well then, let's get to the real prize,” Mauricio announced cheerfully. He vanished in a hatch next to the door. “Come on through, my friends.”  
Nigel shot the door a doubtful glance, then looked back the way they had come. He didn't see anything helpful, and gave Marceline a hesitant smile. “Ladies first, I guess?”  
“Very courteous, but I'd rather go last for now,” Marceline said. The android turned his eyes away and nodded before trying to open the door. It put up quite the fight, but eventually surrendered with a pitiful creak. The violet core moved her handle up and down once, indicating the door. Storm nodded and stepped through.  
Whatever they had expected from Aperture's archives, it wasn't this. The room didn't look much different from most offices they had seen over their time at Aperture and wasn't bigger either.  
Computer panels lined the walls, and once more Storm was amazed by how much technology could fit into such small cases. Apparently this whole computer thing had taken off after all.  
Nigel had already approached a console and was staring at the screen, hands hovering over the keyboard in indecision. He looked back and forth between screen and keyboard for a while before turning around without typing. “Um... if I log in here, She'll know where we are.”  
“She doesn't have any power down here,” Mauricio said. His voice might have been soothing. It wasn't. Why did he sound so contemplative? Storm stared at the rainbow-colored optic, without finding anything to interpret.   
Interaction with the cores was unnerving, to say the least. The android body was much easier to read. Even though the consciousness belonged to a robot, the body had certain reflexes and expressions programmed into it. The spheres only had their voices to express themselves and a limited range of movement. Storm hated it.  
“O-Okay then.” Nigel turned back to the screen and began typing. Storm came closer and tried to get behind the mayhem of digits, letters and symbols flashing over the screen. A window with a magnifying glass popped up. Nigel typed in a set of numbers and the screen changed. There was a list of items. Dozens of them. The android let out a little surprised sound.   
“Ummm.... I didn't expect quite that much...”  
“It seems like our human friend was a person of interest to Aperture,” Mauricio commented. Maybe it was just his general way of speaking, but he sounded satisfied.   
Nigel clicked on the first file. It was a detailed personality profile, apparently assembled through a variety of tests Storm couldn't remember taking. There was nothing in it they hadn't guessed at already. They were protective of children, practical, brooding, determined and only followed their own conscience. The robots apparently were much faster at reading than they were, because Marceline urged Nigel to scroll down before they had finished the first paragraph.  
They were about to complain when the robots fell silent and Storm's eyes fell on a highlighted remark on the bottom.   
_DO NOT TEST, TERMINATION IMMEDIATE_  
They shouldn't be surprised. A human life didn't matter in here. But it still evoked a strange feeling in their chest to see this note. They had been supposed to die so long ago. Yet here they were, by whatever strange twist of fate.  
“If you were scheduled for termination, how'd you end up in stasis?”, Nigel asked. They could have slapped him for sounding so casual, but the shock of it had worn off long ago. He returned to the previous screen and scanned the list of items. He went through some of them, all technicalities that didn't give Storm any useful information.  
“Somebody changed your status,” the android muttered. “They overrode the previous command to get you in among the test subjects. Seems like nobody noticed. Wait, here's the employee number... huh, that's strange.”  
“What?”, Marceline asked. The android jumped a little when he noticed her right above his shoulder and hastily turned his head away again. His fans kicked it up a notch, until Storm took over the kicking, against his leg int his case.  
“Ow! That wasn't necessary!”, he complained. “I'm already on it.” He glared at them for another second, before going back to studying the screen.  
They felt a shudder running down their back. They hadn't noticed before, but while the damaged eye stayed still, the mechanics under the artificial skin moved nonetheless, visible through the tear on his cheek. It was a strange, reptilian kind of movement, like something sliding along under the skin. Which was exactly what happened. They needed to fix that, and soon.  
“The ID number belongs to an intern, I think. There's some rest data here... Yeah, an internship for a college scholarship...” Nigel broke off abruptly, blinking at the screen. Storm shoved him aside, but in the mess of code and information they didn't find anything useful. They were getting increasingly worried the robots were just playing some practical joke and would throw them right back to GLaDOS when they got bored with “Lead the test subject astray”.   
Before they had more time to scan the text, Nigel pushed them aside with more force than necessary, and returned to the previous screen. “The file either got deleted or I don't have enough clearance to access it. Oh well, can't be that important.” His words were a little too clipped, too hasty to sound natural. Not that anything about him was natural.  
Storm put their hands on the edge of the console just to keep them occupied. No, of course it wasn't important to know who had saved their life. It wasn't important to know who had been the only decent human being in this hellhole. If the kid really wanted to stay with them, and they prayed to God he didn't, he still had a lot to learn about manners and common – human – sense.  
“Would you look at that,” Mauricio said softly, snapping them back to attention.   
“Y-You were a spy?!”, Nigel asked. His voice shook, just a bit. It would have been funny that he was still so loyal to this place, if it wasn't so pitiful, and potentially deadly. Storm scanned the information again, trying to decode the mishmash of abbreviations and technicalities.  
“Close relations with ID-1497512-61,” Mauricio read. “Isn't that the ID of our heroic intern?” His voice had returned to the usual purr that could mean anything and nothing, but the rainbow-colored optic flicked over them, in case they hadn't gotten the hint.   
“So you were friends,” Nigel concluded. “That explains why they helped you. Another mystery solved!” He flashed them a nervous smile. Storm narrowed their eyes at him.   
“Looking for something specific.... target unclear, termination as soon as possible...” Marceline nudged Nigel until he scrolled down. “You were working as a lab assistant... Only started a few weeks before you got put into stasis.” She gave a soft, melodious sound of contemplation. “What have you been looking for, I wonder.”  
Storm shrugged their shoulders and pushed Nigel away from the keyboard. That's what they wanted to know. And they weren't going to wait around any longer. Even an idiot would have noticed the robots were hiding something, maybe even something vital. The android tried to protest, but Marceline moved in his way, murmuring to him too low to be heard. The buzz of his fans on the other hand was very much audible.  
Storm scrolled through their profile, but most of it was either glitching or in Aperture's company code, without giving away anything that might help them.   
“May I?” They stepped out of the way, eyeing Mauricio. The hatch on his side opened again and a small plug appeared, locking into the console. It gave a shrill buzzing noise. They all jumped a little. Mauricio pulled the plug back into his shell and turned around. “That should be better.”  
The chaos on the screen had changed to a readable text. The core winked at them. Or at last he blinked. With only one eye at his disposal it was impossible to tell.   
This one was a big player, much bigger than even his fellow cores thought. They would have to keep an eye on him.   
Storm nodded a thanks and began to read.   
The more they took in, the tighter their chest began to feel until they thought they'd just cave inward and collapse.   
No known family. No social relations to the outside. The last address was a run-down apartment in a bad quarter of Chicago, or at least the file said. The address spawned the mental image of dirty brick buildings, small quarters only furnished with a cheap couch, a mattress and a fridge. The best room was their bathroom, because it stayed warm during the winter. Storm wasn't sure how they knew, and their mind didn't give them any more information. They ignored the sting it brought, and continued reading the file. Nothing indicated anything personal, no life, no events worthy of mentioning. They had been a nobody, even back then.  
“Aperture usually deleted the life history of their test subjects,” Marceline said. Her accent gave the words a soothing quality beyond her intention. Storm knew she was right, and it was a lovely gesture, but it didn't ease the pressure on their chest. It wasn't fair. So they had been a spy of some sort. How had that happened? Who had they been, except for stubborn and far too easy to manipulate?  
They read everything again, not finding any more comfort or even information. Their previous self was a ghost. They scanned every line one by one, while the reality slowly began to settle, not comfortable, but bearable.  
Storm stopped at the last line, in very small letters, and marked as a link. _Investigation results_  
They clicked. It was just one paragraph.   
_Social relationships largely as given by subject.  
Contact with Subject A61 and B61 in Operation Stratos.   
Target located as Subject N.P.F.  
Result: You are a terrible person._  
They blinked at the letters. Then the speakers in the room erupted into an ear-splitting screech. Storm almost dropped to their knees, frantically trying to cover their ears. Nigel was less lucky and lost his balance, almost ripping Marceline off her rail before he crashed to the ground.  
The noise made their chest vibrate, and went into their brain without so much as bypassing their ears until it felt like it was ripping their body apart. They weren't even breathing anymore, or at least not by their own volition. Noise could kill someone. They had heard of that.  
The screech broke off as abruptly as it had started, and left them with their ears ringing and a sick feeling in their stomach.  
“ **Found anything interesting?** ”, GLaDOS asked. “ **A human tracking down the story of their boring and meaningless life, just to find there is nothing left. How fascinating. And if you didn't get it, that was sarcastic. It's not fascinating at all. It's pathetic. Like you.** ”  
The answer was a shriek from the same speakers. It wasn't as loud as the one before, but enough to make them wince. It wasn't until Nigel scrambled to his feet, eyes wide in panic, that they even noticed it wasn't just feedback. It was a voice. And the owner of the voice was screaming.  
“Fran!” The android staggered and sagged against the control panel. “No, no, no, that's not-”  
He straightened up, hands locked around the edge of the table, and yelled: “What in the name of science is going on?” He might have sounded a little more intimidating if he hadn't been shaking and his voice had been considerably deeper.   
The screens changed, now displaying a panorama of GLaDOS's chamber.   
The core with the khaki optic was locked between two of the horrific mechanical claws, while a variety of sharp instruments danced around her, tiny arms sneaking into her mechanics. While they watched, a drill entered her shell and the core screeched, her optic shivering wildly. Storm recognized her voice now, even though it was distorted in pain. The sound broke off when GLaDOS retrieved the drill and shook her.  
“ **Your little friend knows a lot about this facility and the old experiments. I was curious, but unfortunately she was... not easy to convince. But we've put our differences behind by now. Come along, she has a LOT of interesting things to say.** ”  
Again, one of the tools went to work and the speakers shook with the core's screams.   
“ **Some are less interesting** ,” the Central Core commented. “ **But quite amusing either way.** ”  
“I already told you everything,” Fran sobbed. “You've got all files. I'm... I'm useless to you.”  
“ **We'll see about that. For now I got other birds to catch.** ”  
“Frannie! Fran, we'll get you out!”, Nigel yelled, before the Central Core had even stopped speaking. “We'll come and get you, you hear me? I promise! We won't leave you there!”  
“ **Oh please do. I can't wait.** ” The speaker static cut off along with the video footage, leaving the room in silence. Nigel stared up at them for a few seconds longer, his eyes – both of them – blazing so bright the orange was almost golden. As abrupt as it had flared up the light died away and he fell down heavily in front of the console.   
“What do we do now?”, he whispered. “The boss has her right in the central chamber. Maybe... no way. Not again. Or... no.” He ruffled his artificial hair in frustration and then just buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking in a rhythmic up and down, even though no sound reached their ears.   
Storm stared down at the android, stunned. During the short time they had known each other, his test subject had taken him away from his job, tortured him into collaboration, had his boss put him into this unfamiliar body, dragged him to his colleagues to be spat upon and caused the Central Core to hunt him, yet they had never gotten such a reaction out of the boy. Sure, he had been scared, he had been angry often enough, but the desperate helplessness, his naked fear for someone other than himself, that was new.  
“I told you,” Marceline muttered. Mauricio gave a thoughtful sound, but otherwise didn't comment.   
“Marceline, can you ask the others if they have an idea? A distraction or something would be enough. Please.” Nigel looked up at her and wiped his face. He didn't have any blood vessels, but he looked paler somehow, with his eyes so dark they could count as brown, hidden behind reflections of light. Why would an engineer deem it necessary to give a robot tear ducts? What purpose would that serve?   
“Of course.” The violet core turned around and raced over to the door, but the entrance was already blocked.  
“Do you really think we would move a handle to help you?” Marceline retreated from the pale golden core as if she had a disease. Sarah let out a shrill, unpleasant laugh. “Go ahead, try to save her. At least you can die with something resembling dignity then.”  
Nigel got to his feet, shaky, but determined. He didn't even acknowledge the insult. “Who made you spokescore for everyone?”, he snapped.   
“The majority, darling. Well, those who don't watch Henry and Rick argue right now. It doesn't really matter, does it?”  
“Oh, it does!” The android pushed away from the console and stomped over to the door.   
“Where are you going?”, Sarah called after him. “Maybe the others followed my advice and prepared a shaft to the incinerator for you after all. Would be a pleasant surprise.”  
The android literally hissed at her, the sound of an angry cat, and slammed the door behind himself. Sarah narrowed her lids at it before moving over to the hatch. “You should hurry if you don't want to miss a good laugh,” she told them.  
Marceline looked back and forth between the human and the door before muttering: “I- I have to go.” She vanished as well and the hatch fell shut again.  
Storm dropped their head on the console. And again, and again. They didn't know if they were laughing or crying until they let out a groan and just collapsed where they were. They felt like either screaming and pulling at their own hair, or kicking something else while yelling rather unpleasant things. Why did they always got pulled into bullshit like this? This had to be some bad joke from whatever God you wanted to believe in. Chance surely couldn't be this ridiculously cruel.  
Something hard brushed over their hair, very gently.  
“Don't do that, my dear. You'll hurt yourself.”  
Their head snapped up, and they batted away Mauricio's handle. “What the hell are you at, anyway? Don't give me that “Let's all be friends” bullshit. You know more than you say and you knew this would happen. I don't have time for this! All I want is get out of here, and you can stick your drama up your-!”  
“Alright, alright,” Mauricio laughed. “You're right, I do know some things. Like that some people had to die to make these androids work.”  
“People died for everything in here!”, Storm barked. “Tell me something I don't know.”  
The rainbow-colored stare didn't waver. “Aperture failed at creating true artificial intelligence like everyone else. But there was a project to transfer people's minds into a computer, as a sample of sorts.”  
“Nigel?”  
“Possible, but not certain. GLaDOS is a genius after all. She might have succeeded in what the humans couldn't do. I shouldn't even have access to this knowledge, but...” He laughed. “Oh well, I was always a rogue, I suppose. But this is something you knew already as well.” Mauricio made a thoughtful sound. “What else could I tell you?”  
“Who were you? As a human.”  
“Is that important for your progress?”  
“No, but I want to know.”  
There was a smile in the core's voice. “Oh, just an admirer of beautiful art. And it's monetary value.”  
Storm couldn't fight a laugh. It wasn't as if they could do much more. “A professional thief then? Well, as far as I know, we both might have been.” They rubbed their forehead and stared over at the door. “The others won't move a gear to help him.”  
“Probably not, no. But they will help you get out. I don't particularly agree with the Achievement Core's attitude, but it's obviously true that Nigel's futile attempt at rescuing the Economy Core will provide the perfect opportunity for your escape.”  
They ran their hands through their hair again, feeling their fingers twitch in frustration. Yes, they wanted out, and yes, this might be the only chance they were going to get. But... despite her obvious second thoughts Fran had saved them. Fran and Brooke had been the first to show them kindness in this cold place.   
It was insanity. It was ridiculous, and it was disgustingly, stupidly human.  
They leaned on the panel and closed their eyes. How long had they been down here? Long enough to be tired again. They could barely remember not being tired. “No. I'll help Nigel save her. I owe her that much.”  
The Rainbow Core let out a sigh. “I expected as much. Then let's see how much support we can get.”  
Storm looked at the screen. Still no more than they already knew. Mauricio gently tapped their shoulder. “I checked the files. Everything interesting is restricted.”  
They breathed, calmly, one in, one out, and then straightened up. They had their backpack, and the Paint Gun. Time to go.  
Sarah had said they would miss a good laugh. When they arrived, nobody was laughing. The cores were too busy spewing insults at the android, who looked more like a child lost in the woods with every second, constantly wavering between desperate anger, frustration and embarrassment. To say it was not going well would have been an understatement.  
“Guys, listen!”, he shouted, for probably the hundredth time by now. “I get it, you hate me, and maybe I deserve it. But this isn't about me. Fran has nothing to do with this.”  
The cores fell silent for maybe half a second before erupting into wicked laughter and sneers again.  
“Where were you when we tried to free ourselves the last time? Where was that paranoid core?”, someone shouted.  
Another voice picked up. “You tried to sell us out to Her a dozen times until we could shut you up!”  
“Why should you be better off than we were?”  
“And besides, we need to get the test subject out.” That was the Achievement Core. “Maybe if you sell the human out She will let you live. In android hell.”  
Marceline had moved to the management rail closest to Nigel and rested her lower handle on his shoulder. She must have said something, because he looked at her for a moment and nodded.   
“They're quite adorable together, aren't they?”, Mauricio muttered. “I was a little surprised She made him a testing associate instead of tagging him as a musician core.”  
Storm squinted at the Rainbow Core, but didn't ask. Of course he hadn't told them everything. A rogue always stayed a rogue, human or not.  
They had been more or less peeking through the half-open door the whole time. The moment Storm entered the room, the cores fell silent and hundreds of eyes in all colors of the rainbow were directed at them.   
“There you are,” Sarah beamed. Her optic was glowing so bright it was almost white. “Okay, here's the plan. Come along.” She ushered them over into a corner, away from Nigel. “The Paint Core searches out GLaDOS. She'll probably want to have some fun with him before he gets killed or thrown into android hell, so her attention will be captured for a while. That's our chance. There's an elevator further up in the facility that will bring you to the surface. We'll have to cross some test chambers, but-” Storm shushed her by laying a hand on her shell. It was cold and slightly rough. They didn't know why, but somehow it felt different from the other cores.  
They turned back to the room. Mauricio gave them what probably counted as an encouraging nod. Every core was looking at them. It was like giving a speech in front of the most ungrateful crowd in the universe. “I'll save Fran first. Then we figure out how I get out of here.”  
The cores stared at them. Even the whirring and creaking of mechanics had ceased. They half expected the crowd to burst into laughter. Nothing happened.  
Instead, they met Nigel's gaze. He was the only one with the physical capability to express any emotion, and it was descriptive enough. His eyes were wide in shock and he struggled to speak up, but couldn't.   
Marceline could, however. She gave a sound of pure joy, spun around herself once and then exclaimed: “See, I told you!”  
“You're completely batshit.” The core with the green optic pushed his way to the front, followed by the Fact Core. The Adventure Core glared at Marceline for a moment and then at Storm. “Let's be honest. GLaDOS is gonna rip you to pieces in five seconds. I'm surprised she didn't already. Your best chance is to bail asap.”  
“Rick is right.” The Heavy Metal Core had to shout to be heard at all. He was at the end of the crowd and trying to get through somehow. The cores wanted to move for him but tightly packed as the rails were, that was easier said than done. Even so, the moment they had more space to move, they parted for him like he was the Central Core herself. “I hate to say it, but he is.”  
“Thanks for the help, Henry,” Nigel snapped.   
“I'm trying to be logical here. She will kill the little one the moment you walk in, or maybe She'll torture her in front of your eyes a while longer. It doesn't make a difference.”  
“That's not even true.” The android crossed his arms. “The boss doesn't have time for nonsense like that and she doesn't destroy Aperture equipment if not necessary.”  
Henry blinked at him, very slowly, as if he was wondering if he should even comment on the pile of stupidity Nigel had just dropped. He didn't, but moved over to him instead. Marceline made way, although there was visible hesitation in the action.   
“What?”, Nigel asked, trying to seem unimpressed.   
Henry hit him over the head with all the force his handle could generate.   
It wasn't enough to send Nigel sprawling, but he staggered, eyes wide in surprise. A new gash appeared on his temple and something that wasn't blood, but similar to it leaked out. “What was that for?” He tried to suppress the tremble in the words, and failed miserably.  
“I hoped you might get some common sense into your processor some day, but I guess that is not in your programming. Forget Fra- the Economy Core. She's done for.”  
“The average limit of a person before succumbing to extreme pain is 24 hours. The Economy Core is a child, therefore the limit is only half of this,” the Fact Core proclaimed. “Possible consequences include but are not limited to madness.”  
Nigel stared at the Fact Core for several seconds before shivering and turning away. Marceline tapped his shoulder and muttered something to him.  
“Why do you even bother convincing him?”, Sarah interrupted. “Test subject... Jamie, was it? You can't possibly mean to help this... rat. Let's get you out of here, we'll deal with the rest.”  
Storm looked over the crowd. The cores looked back, mostly silent. “This isn't about him,” Storm said. “Fran saved my life. I owe her. End of story.”  
“That is not a valid conclusion,” the Fact Core said.  
“ _No, but it's noble_.” The voice of the Central Core was right behind them. Storm spun, their heart suddenly beating like a jackhammer, every muscle tense and set on fight or flight. A startled wave of murmurs went though the cores behind them, metal clinking as some tried to flee.  
They met the gaze of a small white core with an optic colored a deep violet. Its voice was barely recognizable as human, without the necessary intonation to make the words flow. And it sounded just like GLaDOS herself, without the booming, bone-shaking force.  
“It is the right thing to do.”  
“ _Hi Helen_ ,” Nigel greeted her absently. He ran his fingers over the gash on his head and frowned down at them.   
“Helen?”, Rick repeated, as if he had never heard that name in his existence. “How- what- She- She threw you into the incinerator!”  
 _“That is correct_ ,” the white core replied. It looked different from the others. The shell wasn't able to move much, it was just sleek white plastic. It didn't even have lids to blink with. “ _I was rescued. Accidentally, but still._ ”   
Rick blinked at the core and then over at Nigel, since that was the direction the core named Helen was facing. “You?”  
“Huh, what?” The android stopped rubbing his face. He tried to look casual, but couldn't stand still for one second. He shifted from one foot to the other, looked around the room, or scratched one or the other damage to his artificial skin.   
“ _Somebody redirected the tube into android hell instead of the incinerator. It cut off my connection to Her well enough. And the Paint Core helped me out when he... bailed, so to say._ ”  
Nigel gave the white core a blank stare.   
“I think you're mistaking me for someone else,” he said after quite a while of apprehensive silence. He shook the orange fringe out of his eyes and crossed his arms. “I was never in android hell. Only the misbehaving cores go there.”  
Helen gave a sound as if she wanted to speak, but he cut her off. “Can we _please_ go and rescue Fran now? You want to sit around here, fine, I won't. Great talk, good we had that.” He spun and wanted to walk out, but Storm stopped him with a hand on his chest. The android stared up at them, contempt and fear in his far too childlike features.  
“ _You will need a plan_ ,” Helen said. “ _And some repairs_.”  
“She's right!”, Rick confirmed. “Who's with us?”  
Nigel gave him a suspicious glare, but didn't comment.   
“I am!” Marceline zipped over to the android and hovered over his shoulder again. The buzz of fans was too loud to come from only one little android, although he was trying very hard. Storm's hand tingled with the vibration. They kept it there either way. The kid was too hot-headed and in distress to listen to reason right now. He'd run when he saw the chance.  
“I won't miss a chance to spite the lady upstairs,” Mauricio purred.  
The Heavy Metal Core let out a sigh. “I'm going to regret this, aren't I?”


	8. Warehouse 14

“That is literally the worst plan I have ever heard of.” If Henry had arms, he would have crossed them. As it was, he just wiggled his handles in a vaguely unhappy gesture.   
“Make a better one if you don't like it!”, Nigel snapped. He could actually cross his arms. The android did so, if with enough force to slap himself, and stared up at the core hovering over him.  
Henry didn't sound particularly impressed. “Just because we don't have a plan yet, doesn't mean we need to run valiantly into certain death. I only like those stories in my music you know.”  
“We have a plan!”  
“Yeah, we do and it is almost guaranteed suicide!”, Henry groaned. “Marceline, say something! If he doesn't listen to reason, his crush will do.”   
Nigel and Marceline both froze. For a few seconds the android failed to come up with anything whatsoever, even gibberish. His eyes flickered over the violet core a few steps away but didn't dare to remain. “I-I don't have a crush! No offense,” he added hastily. “You're really cool and... nice... and... you know. B-But-”  
The Heavy Metal Core rolled his optic. “Oh bloody- This is _still_ an awful idea. Rick is keeping track of the others for now, so they don't bother us. That's about all the positive aspects so far. The tenacious test subject tried this and the creator knows how she even survived. GLaDOS won't fall for the same old trick again. I'm surprised she didn't flood the whole facility with neurotoxin already.”  
Neurotoxin? NEUROTOXIN? And they hadn't ever thought about _mentioning_ this to them? Storm felt like randomly slapping one of them or possibly all at once if they had more than two arms. Instead, they breathed. Breathed calmly and glared at the arguing AIs, already making up plans to dismantle them in the most unpleasant way. Not that they were surprised. Furious, yes, and terrified, oh yes. But their capability to be surprised by anything Aperture threw at them had long since waned. The cores could tell them Aperture had bred dinosaurs to hunt test subjects down, and they wouldn't have lifted an eyebrow. The real problem was that nobody bothered to tell them anything. How were they supposed to cope with danger if they didn't see it coming?  
They should never have trusted the cores in the first place and now here they were, from an independent human with a plan to an aide in a suicide mission that wouldn't get them any closer to freedom.  
“Can you disable the neurotoxin somehow?”, they asked.  
“Well... yes, that happened before,” Marceline answered. “But it's going to be difficult and...”  
“This is taking too long! Stand around if you want, I'm going to save Fran now.” Before Storm or anyone else could react, Nigel shoved them out of the way and sprinted down the walkway until he turned a corner and vanished.  
“Quite the hot-headed fellow, isn't he?”, Mauricio commented.   
Storm gave him an exasperated glance. “You weren't exactly helpful either.”  
Henry let out a deep sigh. “Plan D then. Glorious.”  
“What does the D stand for?”, Mauricio asked, the equivalent of raised eyebrows in his voice.   
Henry gave him a level look, the upper face plate lowered. “Dumbass.”  
Mauricio let out a sigh, interlaced with a laugh. “The choice of words isn't too far off I'm afraid. Well then, my lovelies, let's save the day.”  
Storm stared at the ground and set their backpack down. They would need this when they got out eventually. If they got out. The possibility seemed to slip from their grasp and farther into the distance with every second they devoted to this crazy plan. But a promise was a promise.  
“Fine. Let's go.”

The air vents were tiny. Storm didn't consider themselves particularly big or muscular, but even so, their shoulders barely fit through the curves and corners they had to maneuver. It didn't help that their hair got caught in the management rail above them as soon as they raised their head to look where they were going. If this vent was any longer, they would come out of it bald.  
“It's not much farther,” Henry whispered. Even at this volume, his voice made their head vibrate. Whoever had programmed the core, he had clearly wanted to intimidate people. It didn't really fit his careful pronunciation, or his elaborate choice of words. Storm gave a grunt that signaled both their dissatisfaction and confirmation, and crawled on. Their back was starting to cramp up, their injured shoulder voiced its protest louder than it should have, and the Paint Gun in their makeshift belt was dripping paint down the back of their legs.   
Well, the situation could be worse. They could be dead.   
Which they might as well be before this was over.  
“Careful.” The silver core vanished from their peripheral vision and Storm felt cool air brush their face. They almost rolled out of the vent head first when it suddenly just ended. They didn't want to think of the consequences. You didn't need to fall far to hurt yourself badly. Instead they barely managed to grab something just over their head to steady them while they slowly slid out. Henry let out a muffled “huff” when they put their whole weight on his handle before they were able to plant their feet on the ground.  
“No wonder you put his core avatar in such a ruinous state,” the Heavy Metal Core muttered. Storm raised an eyebrow at him. The cores seemed to be in one or the other level of oblivion when it came to human manners, but an open insult, that was new.  
Henry wiggled his handle at them. “I prefer not to lie. The mechanisms aren't made to withstand much more than a hundred pounds. Forgive me, but I doubt it will be a shock to hear you excel that limit.” Storm looked down their body and agreed that an estimation of a hundred pounds might be a little low indeed.  
They shrugged at the core and looked around the room. The shelves seemed to stretch into the edge of nothingness, where the ceiling was hidden by the strange mist that seemed to hang everywhere in the lower levels of Aperture. Most of the front shelves were empty, but after that, it was just rows and rows of storage cubes. Some of them had hearts printed in the place of the Aperture logo, resembling the cube they had seen in the drawings dozens of times.  
“If you hear someone talking, pay no mind.”  
Storm nodded absently, their eyes focusing on a sign mounted to one of the shelves. It was designed in the typical manner of Aperture, simple pictographs in pastel colors, this time depicting one of the heart cubes.   
_The Aperture Science Weighted Companion Cube will not threaten to kill you, and can in fact not speak. If it should do so regardless, ignore its advice._  
Storm shot the neatly stacked boxes a dubious glance and then looked up at Henry. He didn't return it. “Oh yes, that...” Heavy Metal Core flicked his optic in a vaguely dismissive gesture. “They were made to make the humans feel less alone, or so it is said. One of the scientists took his 'partner' with him when he finally managed to flee. Radmole, or something related. Rattman. I think. I keep out of this kind of business.”  
Storm nodded but kept their eyes on the shelves. The cubes didn't appear sentient, but you never knew. By now they were sure Aperture could, and would, do anything. They were literally talking to a metal sphere at the moment, after all.   
Which begged the question, why were all these cores down here? Judging from their names, they all had served a purpose at some point. You should think Aperture would have equipped them with personalities to match. Yet Henry for example was no more than another collaborator and quite popular among his kind, despite his rebellious sounding title. They had only a vague idea what Heavy Metal even was, but couldn't shake the feeling that they had known it well once. It probably didn't have anything to do with architecture or chemistry.  
“There's really only two types of life for everything sentient in here,” Henry said, as if he had read their thoughts. “Either you help Her, or you hide and try to keep off the radar. Most of us are adapting as the situation requires. Nigel made some terrible decisions and I can't blame the others for being angry, but what can you do? In the the end we're all bound to our programming.”  
Storm nodded and let their eyes wander over the shelves as they walked. Rows upon rows of cubes, normal or decorated with pink hearts. Storm couldn't blame them either. The first personal encounter with the supercomputer had left them in a state of shock. They hated to admit it, but without Fran and Brooke's uncalled for help they would be dead now, like a sheep being willingly led to the slaughterhouse.   
“Are you scared?”, Henry asked. They were about to shake their head, but changed their mind. Lies hadn't helped them so far, had they? They shrugged their shoulders and kept their steady pace.  
Henry wiggled a handle. “I would be,” he confessed. “Going up against GLaDOS... You must have fried his logic processor at some point.”  
Storm felt an unexpected and surprisingly painful stab of guilt that came with the picture of a small core, helplessly twitching in their arms. They shook off the memory. If there really was something like a logic processor, he hadn't even been in the android body back then. That... flashback or whatever it had been in the cafeteria was much more likely to-  
This whole train of thought was ridiculous. They didn't have time for this nonsense. The kid was just... loyal. In the dangerous way.  
“So if I hear something, then what?”, they asked.   
“Psssht!”, Henry hissed into their ear, making them jump. They blinked at him. “We are entering the junkyard warehouse. Cubes, mostly, and a couple of cores. Those who aren't defective went insane long ago for all we know-” He threw nervous glances around, even though Storm couldn't see any possible danger. “We don't want to wake anyone, understand?”  
After seeing Nigel in sleep mode Storm had their doubts about that, but for the sake of their guide's comfort didn't protest. He was helping them against his better judgment already, and the truth was, you never knew in here.  
“Rumor has it that a human employee was in here for too long when they were awake and went mad. Proceeded to mangle all robots that tried to retrieve him. And a few humans, I hear. Terrible business.” He shivered and his white and red optic flickered over room again. “Do you believe in ghosts?”  
Storm didn't answer. They passed the last row of shelves packed with cubes and entered the back part of the warehouse. The sight made them appreciate their instinct to listen to Henry's advice.  
“A couple of cores,” the Heavy Metal Core had said. A couple.   
A _couple_.   
While the assembly at the core belt had felt overcrowded, it didn't stand a chance against the junkyard. The shelves didn't get any smaller as they walked deeper into the warehouse and all of them held hundreds, maybe thousands of cores. Some seemed to be offline completely, their optics gone black with the lids still open, but the vast majority had their face plates closed, which Storm interpreted as them just sleeping. They felt something cold press against their shoulder and flinched. Henry pressed his handles tight to his body, trying not to scratch them, while he stayed as close as possible.  
“They say he's still here, waiting for someone to come and dismantle,” he whispered.   
Storm wasn't sure if they should be amused by or pity their new acquaintance. But despite the obvious lack of reason in his fear, they felt a shiver run down their back and couldn't get rid of a nagging feeling in their stomach. It was ridiculous, but they tread lightly nonetheless as they followed the maze of shelves, only Henry's mechanical whirring and their own hollow steps to keep them company.  
“Wouldn't we find it faster if we split up?”  
“No!” Henry froze, optic scanning the room in a panicked up and down. Nothing moved. “No,” he repeated in a whisper. “You- You wouldn't be able to recognize him. It's difficult even for us, you know, without voices to identify them. You couldn't know if you acquired the right one.”  
“Is there a reason you talk like this?”  
Henry blinked at them. “I beg your pardon?” Storm shook their head and dropped both topics. If their company made him feel better, so be it. At least his sophisticated manner of speaking didn't sound forced like the Fact Core's.   
They tried to spot the smooth white surface Morality Core had possessed in the chaos, but Henry didn't let them stop and they couldn't even see the top shelves. It was a tedious task and it wasn't made better by Henry's general jumpiness. He had to change the management rail every time they turned into a new row. He did so in obvious haste, immediately fleeing back to their side when he could. Moreover, Storm had to duck under the management rails every time. Either they had been installed after Aperture had been abandoned, or this room had never been meant to be entered by humans. Either way, it cost them time they didn't have. On top of it, the eerie silence began to get on their nerves. They could hear their heart thumping, loud and fast, even though they forced themselves to slow, deep breaths. The empty eyes of the cores seemed to follow their every step, every action carefully being measured for a weak spot. How many of these had been human once? What did Aperture even leave of their unique personalities, their memories and experience? Not much, probably. It took up storage and was irrelevant to their jobs. They were workers, not people, and eventually got dumped down here when they were damaged or went mad. They were walking in a graveyard, and if Henry wasn't completely paranoid, it could come to unpleasant life any moment. The longer they stayed, the worse the tingling at the back of their neck got, like a giant monster breathing down their back, yet when they turned, the aisle was empty. Of course it was.  
Something cracked right next to them. Storm jumped back, and promptly hit their head on the management rail. It wasn't enough to even blur their vision, but hurt enough to make them swear under their breath.   
A tiny core with a rust-crusted shell twitched in its spot, struggling to open its face plates. They were rusted shut, and ghostly white light flickered through the crack. The core groaned like an old man, and tiny sparks hit storm's bare arms, causing the sensation of tiny needles jabbing at their skin. The voice sounded as rusty as the core itself, and it was so weak they could barely make out the words.   
“Is somebody there?”, it whispered. “Oh please tell me you are there. It's been so long since anyone talked to me.”  
Storm stared at the core, unsure what to do. Every hair on their body was standing upright, but the core just sounded so pitiful. How long might he have waited down here for salvation, or just a voice to keep him company for a little while. They didn't have much time, but they could bring him along to be repaired at least.  
Henry collided with them from behind. Collide was an exaggeration, he barely grazed their shoulder, but it was enough to make them jump. They could hold down the scream that had built in their throat by a hair's breadth. Henry ushered them along without a word. The core in the shelf wiggled more frantically, his pleads growing louder and more desperate, until he broke off in a shower of sparks. They stared up at their guide. Henry just shook himself in a “Don't even think about it” gesture and led them to the next aisle. In here, the cores lay still, most of them with open, blackened optics.   
Well, that was just great.  
Storm concentrated on scanning every row systematically, cursing Henry and his paranoia putting them on edge like this. He kept them at a steady pace, not stopping or accelerating, and they could only hope the stark white plastic would stick out of the sea of metal and chipped paint.   
“Wait here,” Henry whispered. They were about to punch him for startling them like that, but he was already zipping down the aisles to change on another management rail several more feet off the ground.  
“Hi there,” a voice all but purred into their ear. Storm choked down a scream and their heart skipped at least five beats before stuttering back into action. The core wasn't remarkable in any way. The paint was a matte shade of dark gray that made it almost vanish in the shadows. Even the optic barely shone, sporting the default concentric circles in matching gray and pale red rows.  
“Hello, lovely.” The core's voice was soft, not unlike Mauricio's, but held the growl of a feral animal about to strike. “What are you doing here alone?” The optic seemed cracked, and unlike the rest of the cores barely moved while it talked.  
“H-hey! Test subject?” Henry's voice was too distant to enter their focus of attention. They probably imagined it. He would never dare to shout in here.  
“Are you lost?”, the dark core purred. “Don't worry, I'll help you.” The optic flashed to life in a bloody red glow, leaving colorful spots in their vision. Storm stumbled backwards until they hit the management rail again, just in time to have Henry crash into them from the side. Something crackled next to their ear, like a long-distance phone line connecting.  
“Mauricio, access the storage files, aisle F16 to H42,” the core all but begged. “And for the love of Johnson, _hurry_!”  
Storm heard him, and some part of their mind knew something was happening, something dangerous. They took a step to the side, and then another one, keeping their eyes on the gray core. It twitched and rolled in its spot, a series of clicks coming from its body until the first spindly leg had emerged from its body, stretching about half a dozen joints.  
Henry shoved them down the aisle and suddenly they were running and struggling to keep their grip on the Paint Gun.  
“Aisle G24, right side, third from the top,” Henry informed them in a factual voice. “Also,” he continued, “didn't I tell you to IGNORE EVERYTHING YOU HEAR?!”  
“I thought we're not supposed to shout?”, Storm panted. Henry groaned but didn't reply. Which aisle was which in here? Nothing was labeled, or at least nowhere they could see, and their legs were getting tired already. “Don't worry, I will be with you soon,” the dark core taunted somewhere behind them. Storm accelerated even more, a sudden burst of panic sending cold claws down their neck. They didn't know where they were headed and left Henry the lead, staring down at the cold concrete in front of their feet.  
They had the Paint Gun. Why in all hell weren't they using it? Moron.  
Before they could however, Henry made an abrupt turn and their speed almost carried them past the aisle. It didn't look significantly different from all the others and was just as packed. Henry waited for them about half the way down.   
“I- I'll wait for you up there,” he announced and sped off.   
Storm stared up into the mist far over their head, already shuddering at the thought of having to climb that far. Their hands were sore and their muscles trembled, but they didn't have time to rest. They stuffed the Paint Gun into the makeshift belt and began the climb.   
“Oh where are you, dear friend? Don't you want to play with me?”, the dark core called. Metal clicked on the floor in a rapid pattern, not unlike, but far more disconcerting than rain. When had they last seen real rain, under a real sky? Just getting soaked in water that wasn't processed or came from a metal tube, it was like a little miracle in itself. Add it to the list of things they wanted to do when they got out of here.  
A core right next to their hand blinked its optic and let out a yawn that might count as a scream. Others followed, mumbling and rolling around in their spot. Storm hesitated, long enough for one to slam its handle down on their fingers. Storm drew their hand back with a curse. The force of motion made their foot slip off the board and the next instant, they were only supported by one foot sliding over the slick metal and their left hand over a sharp edge. The metal dug into their fingers, ready to tear them off.   
“Hello? Hello?”, one of the cores called. “Hello and welcome to F-”  
“I got good news and bad news,” another one chimed in. Storm let out a growl that sounded more cougar than human and wrapped their other hand around the edge. The Long Fall Boots were hard and smooth and didn't give much in terms of support, but they could place their toes in the next board and heave themselves up to the next level. Their heart was pounding, but they didn't stop again until they could spot a vague silver circle over them that might or might not be their guide.  
“Don't be afraid, my friend, I will help you.” The chuckle made every hair on their body rise. The voice seemed to be right in their ear, but when they looked around, nobody was there.   
“Gurkin,” a core next to them announced. “Gurkin, Gurkin, guuuurrrrkiiiinn.” Storm slapped him on the optic. It didn't accomplish anything. The voices spread through the shelf, multiplying in volume with every waking core.  
“Do you think we'll get reactivated?”   
“Finally, I can't wait to see my creator again!”   
“Wake me up, wake me up inside, I can't wake up.”  
Storm heaved themselves to the next level, and the next. Only a few cores even seemed aware of their colleagues or what they said. The others just senselessly talked into the void, to an invisible conversation partner, some even sang or just screeched nonsense.  
Storm looked down. A good thirty feet separated them from the bottom now and they hadn't nearly reached the top. The steel bit into their skin, but they wrapped one arm around the post between two sections of shelf. The Paint Gun was hard to balance with only one hand, even if they just wanted to spray downwards. They splashed blue gel all the way down the aisle, as far as their strength and mobility allowed before putting it back into the belt. A cramp ran through their hand just after that, waves of pain flaring up their entire arm while their fingers clenched and twitched beyond their control. Storm gritted their teeth and slowly moved their arm until the spasm passed. After that, they carefully got back into climbing position, just checking over their shoulder for a routine glance.  
They shouldn't have.  
So far, they hadn't noticed any unease when they came close to the many spiders that had made a home inside of Aperture. Apparently a dark core with five foot long mechanical legs that came rushing towards them was a wholly different issue. The whole world went black and white for a second while their insides turned to ice. Their next pull catapulted them upwards so far they almost didn't catch on to the next level. They should have heard the awful clicks of the mechanical legs while it leaped over the shelves, but the other cores were far too loud now.  
They did hear a curse and a crash somewhere over their head. Henry was hovering in front of the shelf, frantically trying to reach one of the cores stocked there.   
“Which one?”, Storm panted, before they even got into reaching distance. Henry turned to them, stared at the oncoming spider core for about half a second, and finally flew into a panic.  
“Okay, okay, no worries, hakuna matata, we got this, just portal over there and I will- wait, no, you don't have the Portal Gun. I'll just-”  
The dark core giggled, and it somehow cut through the noise like a butcher's knife. “We're going to play tag, my friend. And when I get you...” It giggled again and the sound alone was enough to make Storm's entrails curl up. They turned just in time to see the spider reach the last aisle separating them and hit the top of the shelves, ready to leap.   
They let go. Wind rushed in their ears and the mechanical and apparently very sharp legs missed them by inches. Instead, they crashed into the shelf where Storm had been half a second before, resulting in a cacophony of screams and the sound of ripping metal.   
They could barely hold on to their Paint Gun while simultaneously keeping an eye on the spider. Time was running so slow while they fell. They had time to adjust their grip on the Gun and half turn around to watch out for that... thing. Henry had done the clever, if not valiant thing, and retreated to a safe distance.   
“Ah, this is fun!”, the dark core cheered.   
The impact sent a shock through their body, despite the Long Fall Boots. They weren't ready and almost stumbled. Only the boots prevented their ankles from bending the wrong way and possibly breaking. Storm barely noticed it in the adrenaline surging through their veins. There was no plan to this. They only wanted to survive.  
The Repulsion Gel catapulted them back into the air, right at the mechanical spider, its legs glistening in the artificial lights as it was about to throw itself at them. They splashed it with orange gel just before it took off. The pointy legs suddenly didn't provide steady footing anymore and slipped off the slick metal, carrying the spider far beyond its target.   
It didn't sound too bothered by the unexpected counter strike. “I love those who struggle,” it exclaimed. Storm began to feel sick to their stomach, but they pushed it away. No time for this.   
“HENRY!”, they shrieked.  
“Catch!” For a second, they hovered, not held by anything as gravity and their upwards momentum were at a perfect balance. Something round and more or less white tumbled past them, spinning wildly. Then gravity won the fight and they followed. According to the laws of physics, weight didn't matter for the fall velocity, not considering air resistance and size. Storm pressed their limbs to their body, and managed to snatch the core's handle about a second before their feet hit the ground again and they bounced upward. The impact ripped at their injured shoulder and they couldn't suppress a groan. Whatever Brooke had used, it wasn't good enough.  
“Next exit is two rows to the right, can be closed from the outside,” Henry shouted. They caught sight of said exit at the highest point of their flight, when everything felt light and their arms weren't hurting from the frequent assaults on every joint and their muscles didn't have to carry this heavy equipment and a core. It was a pleasant state, if not for the mechanical spider trying to kill them or worse. They lifted the Paint Gun and sprayed orange gel on the floor before they hit the ground.  
When they did, they feathered the impact with the help of the boots and began to run, spreading the gel as they went.  
“You're cheating!”, the dark core howled. Its voice was distant, almost drowned out by the other cores. How could it possibly get even louder in here? The noise hammered against their head, making every thought fuzzy and their vision blur. Maybe Henry's little ghost story wasn't that far off after all.  
The door did not open to the outside. Storm barely managed to turn around so that their shoulder caught the impact instead of the Paint Gun. It did, but with a burst of pure white pain that completely blanked out their vision for an incalculable amount of time. They could hear the razor feet of the spider hustling towards them.   
When Storm's senses came back to minimum capacity, they staggered to their feet, frantically searching the smooth surface of the door. There had to be a handle somewhere! Fiddling the Paint Gun back into their belt took far too long, with their vision still full of black and white static, so they just jammed it under their arm holding the core.  
Storm ripped the door open and stumbled through. “Pull, idiot,” they muttered to themselves.   
“I got you~”, the dark core exclaimed.  
The white core slipped their fingers and rolled off. Their body was full of adrenaline, but nonetheless, a painful shock ran through their muscles when they slammed the door shut. Something heavy crashed against it from the other side and metal shrieked. Storm stumbled back and kicked the core down the corridor on accident. It slid over the floor, spinning wildly, and vanished.   
They stared at the door, their blood rushing and sweat trickling over their face, with every limb shaking and a pounding headache.   
It held. For now.  
For a few seconds, they considered just sitting down right here. Just a little rest, only a few minutes.   
No. If anything, it was far too loud here. They could still hear the hellhole the warehouse had become, and who knew if that spider thing could open doors. Just to be sure, they slid the bolts on the door closed before making their way down the corridor. Something was fishy. After years of stasis, it shouldn't be a surprise they were a little battered, but it hadn't been like that when they ran Nigel's testing track.   
Speaking of which. That core, now android, was the only reason they were even here. Without him, they would probably be outside already, and this whole rescue mission wouldn't be necessary. It was bad enough having to trust that lying rat, even if the other cores turned out to be nice.   
Then again, it had been their choice to take him along. A stupid choice obviously. They had wanted to spare him from being incinerated for his failure and now they were here, with tons of others drawn into the mess. It wasn't like them to make such mistakes.   
Storm picked up the core they had gathered from the warehouse. Once they had stopped in their tracks, the weariness hit them with an angry right hook. They placed the white core on a shelf and sat down next to it, wiping their face. This was a terrible idea, they couldn't afford to fall asleep now, but oh how sweet the siren song was.   
They stared at the gray floor and just let their thoughts wander. They needed rest, and soon, but first there were some things to do. They closed their eyes, letting the colorful spots fade to black for a while. It was so quiet. Finally, they had some quiet. No homicidal AI chasing them or anything else human or not babbling along.  
Wait.  
Something about that didn't seem right.  
Their brain needed far too long to match the vague idea in their head to the current situation. They had to struggle out of a black abyss to even turn the ball of realization into words. They had fallen asleep. Despite the lack of time. Despite everything, with themselves and those they had promised to help in danger.   
When they raised their head, the world had turned from gray to a senseless mess of colors, and their stomach couldn't decide if it felt empty or sickeningly full, but their thoughts, after a long and tedious meeting, turned in one solid conclusion:  
Henry was still inside the warehouse.   
Storm wanted to scream every curse they had at the ceiling, since the heavens were quite a bit away, but had to settle with hissing “Shit!” through their teeth. They heaved themselves to their feet, taking a deep breath to make their head stop spinning, and adjusted the belt. The white core they left on the shelf. It wouldn't run away. Hopefully.  
For a terrible moment, they hesitated. Was there any other way out? Henry had to know another exit. Was it right to put Fran's rescue at risk? They had no idea how much time had passed. But if there was another exit Henry could get through, that meant not only he could. They had to check. That spider thing hadn't sounded like it would give up easily.  
“I have to do everything myself, don't I?”, they complained to nothing in particular as they stomped back the way they came. “How are these idiots _still alive_? I'm not the first human to get through here, but noooo they make a big issue out of it just for me. I wish I could kick their handles up their shell and-”  
They let out an annoyed shrug and began sliding back the bolts. It was no use listening for that spider thing on the other side. They could still hear the cacophony in the warehouse, and it would drown out everything but an explosion. They hesitated again, then opened the door, just a crack. There was nothing directly on the other side. The warehouse was much brighter than it had been, the overhead lamps outnumbered by hundreds of colorful optics shining out over the corridors, waving and moving constantly as they chatted either with each other or something only they could see.   
Well, their lousy plan had just dissolved into dust. How would they find Henry in this vast hall? The spider AI had seemed far more grounded than most of his colleagues and the other cores would start to chat once they noticed the human passing by. It wouldn't miss another chance of attacking them and they weren't sure if they had enough stamina left to run so far again.   
A shriek cut through the noise, loud enough to make the other cores fall into startled silence. The scream didn't repeat itself, and the first robots began babbling again, albeit carefully, as if they weren't sure if they were allowed to.  
Storm tried to tell themself not to overreact. They had to finish this in a timely manner, and Henry was luckily built for high volumes. They slipped into the warehouse and began to check the aisles around the source of the noise. They passed the splotches of paint that had them helped escape either two minutes or two centuries ago and sneaked around several shelves before finding the right corridor.  
They had thought the dependence on management rails had been one of the core's biggest design flaws. The rails only seemed to be everywhere, and additionally, a core had little more than two handles with a tiny range to physically do anything. But maybe it wasn't a mistake. For all the madness they had seen, very little in Aperture had ever been built without purpose.  
The dark core had buried several of its sharp legs into the ceiling and walls, making Henry back up all the way the management rail allowed. It wasn't far enough. He was cornered, and the dark core still had two agile, razor sharp legs to work with.  
“I've been in this hellhole for too long. Uncalled for at that,” the dark core said, almost contemplatively.   
“You're uncalled for,” Henry shot back. His voice only quivered the tiniest bit. He pressed his handles to his body in a futile attempt to protect himself. “You were already mad before they left you here. I'll never show you the way out.”  
The dark core dabbed a leg at him in an almost casual motion. The tip penetrated Henry's shell with ease, and the core flinched back without being able to go anywhere. He let out a feral growl and broke off when his optic focused on Storm. He couldn't have looked more surprised if he had eyebrows, or a face, or if his face plates hadn't been torn to shreds. Storm waved their hands wildly, somehow signaling him to go on, before dashing behind a shelf again. The dark core hadn't seen them, had it?   
Their heart was pounding in their ears loud enough to shut out the conversation for several moments.  
“Fuck you,” Henry said flatly, when they could more or less hear again.  
“Oh, my funny little friend, but I have standards. Also, I know that people tend to get awfully rude when they're trying to hide something...” Henry's optic contracted into a tiny white point. The dark core chuckled. “Ah, you gave yourself away. What might it be?”  
Storm swallowed, but the lump in their throat stayed. They drew their Paint Gun and adjusted their grip. If they lost this device, they were dead. They had wanted to prepare their path of escape, but that was no option. Not anymore. Time was out.   
Their hands slipped on the handle of the gun. No time for the stereotypical deep breath, no matter how much their hands were trembling. The noise of the babbling cores pounded at their temples.   
They did this because it was right. It was stupid, and might kill them, but they did it anyway. Because it was _the right thing to do_. In the end, the good always won, right?  
Henry couldn't stifle the next scream and Storm began to run, splashing paint in front of them. Their finger felt weak on the trigger, but at least the gun wasn't slippery anymore.   
“Where is your lovely friend going?”, the dark core said, still turned around to his victim. “I missed so much in here...”  
A big splotch of repulsion gel collided with the wall. “Drop!”, they shouted.  
Henry spun. “Bad timing!”  
“DROP FOR FUCK'S SAKE!” They hit the wall full sprint, feet first and were catapulted upwards in an odd arc. They still found it strange how much the blue gel cushioned the impact into a solid concrete wall. Not that they were in a position to complain. They caught Henry in the air, his dented and pierced shell scratching their bare skin. The force of the collision should have made them double over if not for the locomotion of their flight. Instead, it pushed them downwards, and their feet hit the ground and they were running again.   
Henry's main body spun wildly before he froze with his optic directed at what they were leaving behind. “Are you sure this is the right way, I don't think this is the right way!”  
“Oh no you don't!”, the dark core called. It didn't sound upset. No, it was enjoying this.  
“You might want to accelerate!”, Henry informed them. Something almost brushed their neck, creating a sharp hiss of air right behind their head.  
“You might want to accelerate more!” Henry's baritone voice jumped into falsetto at the last word. “Much, much more if that is possible in any way, please!”  
For a brief moment, they caught their reflection in the shining hull of a core. They were barely a dirt-splattered orange figure with a shock of black hair and wild eyes, and a black ball of metal with many, many legs right behind them.   
“Why are you running, dear? Bringing me out? How lovely! But I think I'll find it myself. And you were even so courteous to open the door for me.”  
The Paint Gun was heavier than a sack of bricks by now, and their arms were burning from the strain. Still, they slapped the lever on the device with the arm holding the core and turned, their feet still sliding over the trail of orange gel.   
The obligatory instruction to the paint test had included the warning not to get covered in the blue gel. Ever. Back then, they had assumed it was toxic in some or the other way, like most things in here. The last few test chambers had taught them differently. Once an object was covered, there was little to nothing you could do to stop it. A cube bouncing around a room was a deadly projectile.  
The same went for cores. Once enough of their hull was covered, they rolled and bounced off each other, nearing their inevitable escape from the shelf, spreading the repulsion gel everywhere.  
“Very clever of you, but not enou-”  
Blue paint hit the dark core right on its optic, sticking to the metal and covering every surface as far as it could spread out. Blinded, the spider legs lost their rhythm, but not their speed with which it was rushing towards the human at the end of the trail. It would have stumbled, if it hadn't slammed its legs on the floor to stop.   
As it was, that exact spot happened to be a patch of blue gel.  
The spider let out a shriek as it took off and was catapulted over the shelves and out of sight.   
Storm stared at the spot it had just been, panting, only now realizing they were standing still. There was a catch. There HAD to be a catch. It couldn't be THAT easy.  
“I see how you'd be very proud, don't get me wrong, I understand, but it would be appropriate to remove ourselves from this location if we don't want to die,” Henry informed them in a polite, matter-of-fact tone.  
Storm took a step backwards, then another one, and then began to run. Just get out of here. The first core hit the ground somewhere behind them and they felt paint splatter on their skin as it bounced past them.  
They raced into the corridor and dropped Henry to the ground with a barely audible “Sorry” before tucking away the gun and slamming the door shut. This time they closed all bolts and turned the wheel on the door. They wouldn't go back, and if it was the last retreat from GLaDOS's so-called neurotoxin.   
Somehow, they managed to stumble to the next wall before collapsing.  
The noise from the warehouse was dampened, not drowned out. It sounded like a herd of bulls tap-dancing, or the whole NBA playing basketball in a 15 foot room. The walls vibrated with the force of the cores bouncing around. Would they just keep their momentum, or did the repulsion gel stop being effective at some point? They didn't know and couldn't give two shits about it.   
“That's it!”, Henry barked. “That's it, I'm done, not my cup of tea, they can all go to android hell for all I care, I'M OUT!”  
Storm barely even turned their head. They could tell him how much they agreed, but that wouldn't help them now. If only they weren't so damn tired.  
“What?” Henry stared at them with what was left of his face plates narrowed. He had come to a halt in an awkward sideways position, but that didn't impede his ability to stare a contemptuous hole into them.  
Storm got up, trembling, and almost fell over when they picked up the now badly scraped and hole-riddled core.   
“I did my part,” Henry said, a little more defensive now. “I did, and I got cut to scraps by that psychopath core for it. I'm not going up against Her. No Sir, thank you very much. Oh and while we're on the subject matter, _where the hell were you_?!”  
Storm trod along the corridor, standard door after standard door. They didn't answer. “What was that... core?”  
Henry misunderstood the question. “They wanted a way to study the human mind – and us, in extension. Serial-killer type humans in particular. I don't know who made up the spider part, though.” He wiggled his lower handle, the one that was still functioning, and shuddered. “That's what I heard, anyways. To be honest, I never believed he was real.”  
Storm didn't bother to comment. Walking was enough effort for now. They would have walked past the management rail if Henry hadn't pointed it out. The weight leaving their strained arms was a blessing, if a short one, because they found the white core they had stored there. The reason they had come here in the first place.   
The white core was smaller, but not much lighter than the later models, or what they assumed were the later models. And what were they supposed to do with it now? If Henry told them it was the wrong one and they had to go back? They would probably slap him off his management rail.   
“Along here, ladies and gentlemen.” Storm followed the directions to a cracked panel that moved when Henry got closer. They squeezed through, somehow shifting their makeshift belt around while balancing the core – it still hadn't given a sound – and found themselves beyond Aperture's working domains once more. They had to walk bent over for a while to avoid fans whirring over their head, and threatening to cut it off, probably, until they reached a round vertical shaft.  
Henry stared at it for a while, before he slowly shifted his scratched-up optic to face Storm. They wondered what he saw in their face, because he drew in his handles and backed off almost a yard.  
“I might not have calculated this.”  
Storm set down the white core and peered over the edge. The shaft was round and about five feet in diameter. There was no way of telling just how deep this pit was, but it had to be quite a bit, judging from the mist that covered the transition into darkness. The same went for the end over their head, vaguely illuminated by blue light coming out of nowhere. The mist swirled in complicated patterns, sending tendrils upwards from time to time, ghostly hands that wrapped around their legs in a cool embrace, seeping into the fabric of the jumpsuit and their boots. Somewhere nearby, wind was rushing, but otherwise, it was completely silent and the air in here barely moved.   
There was a ladder leading up and down right next to the entrance they stood in. This would be a very long climb.   
The cold had something good, though: They felt a little more awake now, and the air seemed fresher than anything they had breathed in a long time.   
“I'm pretty sure these pass by the Exotic Location test chambers,” Henry said. Storm sighed. They could have gone without that information. Of course this was just a part of the machine called Aperture Laboratories, or whatever Aperture had called itself before it was taken over by crazy robots.   
They adjusted their belt, making sure it wouldn't fall, and then picked up the core. What were they supposed to do with it? This one hadn't gotten off as clear as the Morality Core. One handle was missing completely, the other one was badly cracked, maybe from the fall it had been submitted to recently, and the white plastic had scorch marks everywhere. It didn't count as white, really.   
“You think the shrimp is alright?”, Henry asked. Storm raised their eyebrows, but didn't say anything. “Nigel,” Henry corrected himself. “Nigel is... he's hard to nail down. He loves his job, but sometimes he acts as if he wants to end up in android hell. He's so easy to get excited about literally anything that tickles his fancy, but he gets bored very fast as well. He's a perfectionist, but I'm fairly sure he knows about his weaknesses. He just tries to ignore them. The others laugh at him for being such a petty bureaucrat, but I've seen him stretch the rules where he could. He betrayed many of us but... he's loyal to those he really likes, you've seen that. I don't know who programmed him, but they must have like paradoxes.” Storm had to admit that was quite the accurate description for the... the child.   
The damaged core in their arms gave a sound like a dozen different animals at the same time and jumped at Storm's throat.  
They stumbled back with a croak that would have been a squeak had they had enough breath left and dropped it to the ground, just to leap after it before it could tumble over the edge of the shaft. The core wiggled its handle, still giving a mangled impression of several upset-sounding animals. Storm stared at it, before slowly raising their head to glare at Henry. What was that supposed to be good for again?  
“It's dubbed the Anger Core. The tenacious test subject threw it in the incinerator along with its, uh, colleagues, when they shut down GLaDOS for the first time. Not sure how they even survived...”  
Storm stared down at the core, before plucking the jagged remains of the handle out of their sockets. They weren't connected to anything and came out easily. The core didn't change its snarling, so they assumed that hadn't hurt it.   
“How far up?”  
“Three levels, at least,” Henry said. He didn't meet their gaze, but unsuccessfully tried to scratch himself with his handle.  
Great. Just fantastic. Without handles, they couldn't tie it to anything, climbing with one arm was out of the question, and the slot for the grip claw of the management rail was melted shut. Even if it hadn't been, they would have been surprised if the core would have followed instructions and went with them. Storm looked at the ladder and stretched their arms, before deciding they didn't have a choice either way. They opened the zipper at the front of their jumpsuit. The core was just small enough to stuff down their shirt, where it came to an uncomfortable rest.  
They met Henry's unreadable stare.   
“What?”  
The core blinked. And blinked again. And again. “I- I thought- I thought you were-” The sentence trailed off unfinished under the human's deadpan stare. When it was apparent Henry wouldn't finish it, they inched their way to the edge and put a foot on the first rung.  
The climb was an outright nightmare in their exhausted state. On the positive side, there were a billion things that could go wrong, like the Central Core manipulating the ventilation or one of the rungs or the whole ladder just breaking, yet none of it happened. By one or the other miracle, they safely reached their destination, even with their whole body trembling and burning.   
Storm waved off Henry's attempts at getting them to hurry and leaned against the wall to catch their breath. Their hands felt like the skin was slowly burned off, a side effect of the rusty metal, and the cool breeze had turned from a refreshment to the painful touch on a fever-hot body during a cold.  
“What did we get that for?”, they got out.  
“Nigel said there are a variety of animals in the processor. GLaDOS is afraid of birds, you know?”  
“And?”  
Henry tried to blink, but the upper face plate got stuck and only dislodged after considerable effort and a rain of sparks. Or what was left of it. Some parts had fallen off after being almost completely separated from the rest, and the metal was bent and had disintegrated into little more than a mess of sharp edges.  
“Well... uh... it should be sufficient distraction... for Her. To get Fran and Nigel out.” They stared. Henry backed off a little more. “You... you understand me, right?”  
Storm slowly, very slowly cocked their head about two degrees, forcing themselves to take deep breaths. They weren't sure if they were going to start crying or screaming. “We. Got. This. To imitate. A _Bird_?” They barely managed to press the words through their teeth, clenched painfully tight.  
“Uh, that... was the plan... Mauricio, he told you, right? ...Right?” He trailed off under their stare. Storm retrieved the scorched core from their shirt. It had grown quiet during the ascend, and only now started growling again.  
“We. Almost. Died,” they said. Henry wanted to back off even more, and hit a closed hatch. He gave a startled squeak. Storm hadn't moved.   
“Y-Yes...?”  
Storm threw their hand up, the other one still clutching the damaged core. “ _I_ can imitate a bird, you walnut! This whole endeavor was _unnecessary_!”  
Henry stared at them. “B-But... do you have the sound files? You couldn't-” His optic contracted until only a pale white dot remained. “Oh,” he whispered.  
They wanted to scream and slap somebody, but what came out was a wide, wide grin that hurt their cheeks. Their lips were dry and cracked and they tasted blood and something even more distasteful, probably paint.  
“Yes,” they said in a low voice, not dropping the smile. “Yes, Henry, _Oh_ is definitely the best way to describe this situation.”  
“Listen, I- I couldn't know! I mean, perhaps I could have, but it did not... I was never in extended contact with humans,” he stammered. The hatch moved, but Henry hovered on the edge, unsure if he should make a tactical retreat. Storm gave him a sweet smile.  
“No, no, it's fine. Let's go to the next part of >How to die in the most complicated and stupid way in a facility filled with idiotic robots<.” Their hands tightened on the white core. It chirped and barked, and made a variety of sounds they couldn't identify, and then settled for purring. Storm dropped their gaze from the shivering Core down the hall to the one in their arms.   
Animals. Petting.  
They ran their hand over the scorched surface. The purring grew louder with each stroke until their hands vibrated from the noise, a low, steady sound of pleasure. The shell was rough and uneven, but cool under their aching hands.   
Well, they thought, this one couldn't possibly screw them over, intentionally or out of ignorance.   
They let out a whistle. The core stopped, then continued purring, this time in what felt somehow questioning. They whistled again, trying to put in a melody of some sort. The core chirped back, first one, then another and finally a whole swarm of bird voices.  
Henry flinched so hard he banged against the metal of the hatch. “W-Well that will most certainly get Her attention.”  
Storm raised an eyebrow at him and followed the way the corridor took them. After several seconds of hesitation, Henry followed. He showed them a cracked open panel that once again led to the back roads of the vast complex. The next time they had a chance to peek out at the open roads, they were back in the Enrichment Center, crisp and clean and designed to impress. Behind the scenes there was dirt and rust, something was always moving, but none of it was sentient.  
Hopefully.  
“Wait.” They stopped. Henry did as well, his optic spinning rapidly. Storm didn't step back, even though they wanted to. It looked alien and robotic, and made them more uncomfortable than it reasonably should. Of course it was. He was a robot, for Tesla's sake. And yet they wished he wasn't.  
“Hello gorgeous,” Mauricio purred. They looked around, but the only one there was Henry. The voice was coming from him, probably via radio waves of one or the other kind. How simple.   
“I'm glad you're here,” Mauricio said, and the tension in his voice told them things were already going very, very wrong. “You're running awfully late, I'm afraid. Things are not-”  
His voice was drowned out when all speakers in the vicinity, probably in the whole facility, burst into the static hum of an open line.  
“One more chance, boss,” Nigel's voice echoed through the empty corridors. He sounded lonely and scared, but determined. “Let me show you what I can do. I'll have them here in no time.”  
“ **Really**.” GLaDOS drew out the word, as if she was trying it like a candy and not sure if she liked the taste. “ **How do you presume to do that, testing associate?** ”  
There was a long pause. “They trust me.”  
“ **Do they now** ,” GLaDOS said softly. “ **Well, then show me. Prove yourself.** ”  
“Yes, boss.” For a few seconds, he sounded as if he had a bad cold. “I'll bring you the rogue cores... and the test subject. It'll be a piece of cake.” Another long pause. “They'll never see it coming.”


End file.
